Drowning
by casslourocks
Summary: "All he felt was sharp, bitter pain all over his body as ice cold water enveloped him." Cal has convinced himself that Ethan doesn't need him, but will he be there when Ethan needs him most?
1. Multiple Casualties

'Dr Knight,' Zoe Hanna summoned upon entering the lobby, 'Dr Hardy.'

The two men came to a stop side by side in front of the consultant, a chorus response of 'Dr Hanna' ringing between them.

'There's been a major RTC near the canal. A bus and a lorry collided not far from the water; multiple casualties. They've assessed the scene, we're scrambling a HART team and I want you two to be a part of it.'

While one brother quietly rejoiced at the idea of being part of such a huge operation, the younger of the two silently nudged his glasses up his nose as he pondered the numerous outcomes. _So many people could be hurt. So many people could die. What if people were in the water? Was there a fire? Why did they need a HART team unless the whole incident was bigger than his brother's mini fist pump implied?_

'Come on, Nibbles,' Cal tapped his brother on the forehead with his clipboard. 'You heard what she said. We're leaving in less than two minutes.' Then he disappeared round the corner, his body bouncing with anticipation.

Ethan cleared his throat quietly, if not to actually clear his throat but to bring himself back to reality. 'Right,' he commented idly, following Cal round the corner to change. 'Less than two minutes.'

The ride to the site felt rocky and unsafe, but perhaps that was just Cal's adrenaline-fuelled foot knocking against the floor.

'Ethan!'

He scurried over to the voice as soon as the ambulance doors opened; there was no time to even assess the severity of the incident. _Pull yourself together, idiot._

Iain greeted him and briefly shook his hand before pulling him towards the canal. 'We've got two casualties in the water, father and daughter. They were thrown off the top of the bus. Both conscious and responsive. I'm going to assist David,' Iain gestured to a fireman who was sorting out equipment, 'in the rescue but once they're out, I need _you_ to assess their condition. Clear?'

Ethan gave a quick nod and Iain mirrored his action. 'Good lad. Let's do this,' he said, turning back to the water.

Cal had not been summoned by anyone when he and his brother had arrived, so, naturally, he sprinted straight for the most perilous looking part of the scene. Keen to make obvious how skilled he was, he used the railings of the overturned sight-seeing bus to swing himself and his equipment on top, where several patients were being treated.

'Dixie,' he greeted the paramedic as he approached her. 'Where do you need me?'

The woman sighed, exasperated, lightly shrugging. 'Where to start? We've got a couple John Does down there; walking wounded…' She looked him dead in the eye. 'Don't even try the lorry. There's nothing left of 'em,' she warned, throwing a glance toward the ablaze vehicle over twenty metres away. Cal wondered how fast the vehicles had to have been going to have landed so far apart and in such bad condition. 'We're using the bus as a temporary treatment centre. Pick a patient and get to work.' Then she resumed her position, next to a woman who had clearly had her legs crushed.

Down by the canal, Iain and David had rescued the daughter who had been thrown into the water. Ethan was checking her over but he could tell she was finding it hard to concentrate without her father being safe too.

'So where were you sitting on the bus, Maeve?' Ethan asked to distract the teenager. 'Open your eyes wide for me,' he said, shining his pocket torch in her eyes.

'Um,' she replied, her voice choked with shock, 'the front. We were at the front. Have they got my dad yet?'

'No, not yet,' Ethan responded gently, tipping her chin and feeling around her jaw. 'Do you remember hitting your face at all? Does it hurt?' She shook her head. 'Okay. Do you always sit at the front of the bus? My mother always used to sit at the front too.'

'Yes,' she replied, her face curling into a deeper frown. 'It's my fault. I asked him to sit at the front. I said I wouldn't be able to see otherwise. It's my fault, isn't it? You think it's my fault.'

'Of course not,' Ethan soothed, perplexed by Maeve's lack of injuries. 'You didn't know this was going to happen. As it happens, it looks like you've had a lucky escape. You seem healthy. Cold,' he flashed his best charming smile, 'but healthy.' He was satisfied with his work so far.

Cal had worked on three patients since arriving at the scene. He had pronounced one dead and sent two, stable, to hospital. Pronouncing the death of someone was something Cal could never quite detach from. He could easily detach from all sorts of gruesome injuries and procedures, but pronouncing a death was just _so_ … final. He was literally ending a person's life, preventing this once-living, breathing, moving, talking creature from all of these privileges. He'd had nothing to do with the events that had caused this person's decline, but he was the one concluding that their life was over. Did he even have that right?

He crouched down next to Dixie, who was still treating the casualty with severe crush injuries. 'Alright, Dix? What do you need me to do?'

Dixie directed him towards the woman's legs. 'This is Laura; 36; her legs were crushed by the seats in front of her. Possible spinal injury. I'm waiting on a backboard to take her in; we're running out of supplies until the next ambulance gets here. I've done a quick assessment on her legs and the pulse in her right foot is irregular and weak but it's there. Can you try to stem the bleeding for me and keep an eye on that pulse? I'm checking her over for head and neck injuries until that backboard gets here.'

Cal nodded and set to work. As he was monitoring Laura's pulse, he took a quick glance up and took in his surroundings. In front of him, twenty feet away, was his younger brother, pulling thermal blankets close around a teenage girl who'd been pulled from the canal. Her father had just been rescued too, and Ethan was getting ready to tend to him. Cal wondered briefly if Ethan had checked the girl for head and neck injuries, but rational thinking set in. _Of course Ethan would check for such injuries. Ethan was one of the best._

Iain approached Ethan moments after he had helped successfully rescue the two casualties. 'Are you alright here? I need to triage the remaining passengers.'

'Yes, of course, no problem,' Ethan assured, smiling confidently. He crouched next to the girl's father, ready to examine the cut on his forehead. 'I'm fine here.'

'Good man,' Iain winked. 'Thanks for the help, Dr Hardy,' he commended, before sprinting towards the bus.

'Alright, how are we doing here, sir? My name is Dr Hardy; I'm a registrar at Holby City hospital. Do you know where you are?'

'I don't know and I don't care,' the girl's father replied, shoving Ethan's shoulder roughly. As Ethan struggled to maintain his balance, the man continued: 'Focus on my daughter.'

 _You've dealt with this before._ 'Alright, sir, I have _already_ examined your daughter and she looks to be in quite good shape considering. You've got quite the gash on your forehead though so I just need to –' Ethan reached out to take a look but the man shoved his shoulders and Ethan had to throw his hands backwards so he didn't fall too violently.

Cal was distracted. He was trying so hard to find a pulse in Laura's foot – Dixie said it was there just a couple of moments ago – but he couldn't keep his mind focused long enough. The man Ethan was treating was arguing with him, and Cal strained to hear what was being said. He couldn't help. Maybe Ethan didn't need help, but Cal's older brother mind-set had kicked in far before that thought even occurred to him.

'Sir, this would be a lot easier if you cooperated with me,' Ethan said, lifting himself up and approaching the highly agitated man. 'As I mentioned before, while you were in the water, I did check Maeve over and, although she does need to go to hospital for observation, she should be just fine. My main priority now is –'

'My _daughter_ is your priority. I do not need any help. Can't you see my daughter needs your attention?' The man was getting louder and more infuriated.

 _Who's the doctor here? Me. I am. Do your job, Ethan._ Ethan pushed his glasses up his nose and changed tack. 'Maeve? Do you feel okay?' Maeve nodded. 'Are you going to be alright while I treat your father?' She nodded again.

Ethan looked up at the girl's father, but suddenly he was a lot closer than he anticipated. 'Don't try and turn my daughter against me!'

Cal kept willing his younger brother to look up and catch his gaze, so he could ask him with his eyes whether he needed help, but Ethan was preoccupied. His mind was nowhere close to needing Cal to save the day. He could deal with this on his own.

Ethan was at least half a foot smaller than the man in front of him. He was shouting at him so close to his face that Ethan could see spit on his glasses. He remembered thinking that the man in front of him was about Cal's height. _Where was Cal?_

Then, out of nowhere, the man reeled back and his fist collided with Ethan's face. The younger man heard a crack, and, in the moments while he stumbled, sincerely hoped that the sound came from his glasses and not his nose. He briefly wondered if anyone else could hear that ringing sound that deafened him and threw him off balance. Trying to fall forwards, he couldn't get his bearings, and although he felt the chain that lined the edge of the canal dig into the back of his knees, he still couldn't focus on where he was. When his body lurched backwards, his legs caught by the chain, Ethan kept expecting the ground to break his fall, to feel the smack of concrete against the crown of his head, but all he felt was sharp, bitter pain all over his body as ice cold water enveloped him.


	2. Panic

**Thank you for all your reviews, follows and favourites! It's been 6 years since I've written anything on this site but I'd forgotten how wonderful it felt to get reviews! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter too :) Cassie x**

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If there was one thing that Ethan had known before he began even his most basic medical training, it was _do not panic_. Panicking is quite possibly the worst thing you can do in a stressful situation. It was purely common knowledge, right? It made absolute logical sense to not cloud your thoughts with paranoia when you were already in a bad situation.

But Ethan was panicking.

He was in cold, deep water. His face was in blinding pain. Even when he opened his eyes, he could only see the few inches in front of him. He tried kicking his legs furiously, but he wasn't sure if he was swimming up or down. He was nowhere near alert; he was drifting in and out of consciousness. He'd tried to inhale before he'd hit the water, but his nose was in so much pain that he'd involuntarily taken in a huge breath after his face had been enveloped and now he was finding it harder and harder to breathe. He was choking. He could feel his eyelids swelling, and any light he could have been searching for was darkening.

It was safe to say, Ethan was panicking.

* * *

The next time Cal looked up, Ethan was gone. It took a couple of seconds for the man's brain to catch up with what he was seeing, until a light shove from the paramedic next to him brought him to the present.

'Dr Knight,' he heard Dixie say, 'how's that leg doing?'

Cal's head snapped towards Dixie, then towards where Ethan had stood, and back. 'Er,' he hesitated, 'yeah, er, there's no pulse here.'

Laura let out a distressed sound and Dixie rolled her eyes. 'Alright, love,' she soothed, before turning to Cal: 'Why don't you say that a little louder? I don't think she heard you,' she said sarcastically.

'Yeah,' Cal replied absently, softly clapping Dixie on the shoulder and standing up, eyes transfixed on the water. _Where was Ethan?_

'Dr Knight?' Dixie looked up at her colleague. 'Cal, can you come back down please?'

 _How could he have disappeared? He had only looked away for two seconds._ Cal's eyes darted back and forth, searching for a sign of his brother among the emergency personnel, the debris and the equipment.

'Cal?' Dixie jumped to her feet and hovered around him. 'Cal, we need you.'

'Yeah, yeah, okay,' Cal waved her away. Then he strode towards the edge of the vehicle, swung his body over and lowered himself down over the wreckage to the ground. 'Ethan?'

'Cal!' Dixie yelled after him, 'Caleb! Oh, forget it.' She sighed and returned to her position at Laura's head, as sirens announced the arrival of the next ambulance. 'Alright, sweetheart, I've got you.'

Cal was by the side of the canal in a few long, determined strides. As he approached, the man Ethan had been arguing with turned to face him. 'Are you here to help my daughter?' he demanded, though his expression was nowhere near as hard as his tone.

'Where's Ethan?' Cal replied, sparing a glance at the sobbing girl wrapped in blankets. She was breathing, alert and, albeit cold and wet, unscathed. She was staring at the water.

'Who?' the man answered, but his voice hitched in his throat.

'Ethan. Dr Hardy; he was just here. He was treating you and your daughter. Where is he?' Cal pressed, refusing to break eye contact with the man who seemed all too willing to break his.

'I-I don't know who you're talking about,' he said. 'Are you going to help her or not?' The man reached up a shaking hand to wipe his forehead and Cal caught sight of red, split knuckles.

'I need to find Dr Hardy first — what did you do to your hand?' He knew this man had been in an accident, but Cal had been on both the giving and receiving end of enough punches that he could also clock this injury a mile off. 'Did you do something to him?'

'Shouldn't your priority be my daughter?'

'Of course my priorities include your daughter, sir, but her doctor is currently missing and I'm inclined to believe—'

'You're _inclined to believe_ what, Doctor? That I, what,' the man shook his head hurriedly, confrontationally, 'that I punched him? Is that what —?'

'Dad!'

Both Cal and the man's head snapped towards the girl questioningly. She was staring intently at her father, brow furrowed and her face red from crying. She turned her head up to Cal. 'He's in the water.'

* * *

All of the medical knowledge that had been flying around Ethan's brain had collided and confused him and he didn't know what to believe anymore. His thoughts were slowing and now he couldn't tell if he was even moving. He vaguely remembered being taught that swimming can cut your survival chances in half because it uses up your energy. Ethan didn't feel like he had much energy to start with.

He had never been someone who gave up. He was a fighter. He was trying to tell himself that but his lungs were giving out and he didn't know how to restart them. The last remnants of Ethan's cynical humour manifested itself as he started to accept what was happening to him: _At least I'm not panicking anymore._

* * *

Cal's world felt like it came juddering to a halt. _In the water. As in… he's helping someone in the water. That must be it. Ethan wouldn't have – he couldn't have…_

His eyes swivelled towards the canal and the sheer twelve-foot drop from where he was standing to the deep water below, before his head caught up and he was standing on the canal's edge staring straight down. The water was choppy but the current wasn't strong. There were no flailing arms or legs, no screams for help. _Ethan couldn't be…_

Cal didn't even stop to assess how dangerous the situation was. He didn't take off his shoes, he didn't remove his extra clothing and he certainly didn't stop to check for steps before he dived straight into the water.

Cal had only watched _Titanic_ once, with an old girlfriend. He hadn't liked it much. He'd thought it was too dramatic and ridiculous, and _of course Leo could have fitted on that door as well_. But there was one line that had stuck out to him, and that line could not been any more resonant right now. It was something like, 'Water that cold…it hits you like a thousand knives, stabbing you over and over'. That description was absolutely accurate.

He fought through the pain and tried to clear the dirty water in front of him. He turned his head frantically from side to side, trying to catch a glimpse of his brother. The water was dark and muggy and each stroke Cal took felt like his arms were pushing through wet sand.

 _Where was Ethan? Had the girl been lying? Was he even in the water?_

A sudden flash of green answered Cal's spinning questions. He tried to grab the collar of his brother's uniform jacket, but he could feel his chest burning and he had to swim up for air. He burst out of the water, took in a huge gulp of air, and dived back under, ignoring the voice calling his name.

When he finally reached his brother again, Cal couldn't help but notice how deathly pale Ethan was, even through the murky water. His eyes were closed and there were no signs of breathing around his face. Cal threw his arm out blindly, clasped a hold of his brother's wrist and pulled him to his body. Keeping an arm round his torso, he began to kick upwards desperately, praying and hoping someone would be there to help him when he finally reached the air.


	3. Desperation

**Hi! Sorry! It's been a few days. My weekend has been absolutely hectic! Anyway, you don't want to know about that, so here's the next chapter! :) In an effort to make up for the wait, this chapter is about double the length of the other two :P I hope you enjoy it!**

 **Thank you all for your reviews, especially those who sent in suggestions. I haven't used all of them but I am thinking of bringing some in later on and they definitely help to get the creative juices flowing :) So keep on doing what you're doing!**

 **I'll let you read now...**

 **Cassie x**

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'Cal! Caleb! Oh, forget it. Alright, sweetheart, I've got you,' Dixie soothed, returning to Laura. 'Don't you worry now; we're going to take you to hospital right away, darling, ok?'

As the sirens drew closer, Dixie let out a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding in. Today had been a shit day. A major RTC always brought chaos, but this was one of those times that the paramedic wished she'd been off duty. So many people were dead, or on the brink of it. The crush injuries were horrendous and Dixie was experienced enough to know that most of those limbs were being amputated. And now, _now_ , her specialist registrar was abandoning her.

It was unlike Cal to abandon a situation like this. He was a stubborn, insolent, fantastic doctor, and he never abandoned patients in their time of need. Dixie looked up to follow Cal's route, her eyes falling on the doctor by the side of canal, his face centimetres from another man's. As her fellow paramedics approached with Laura's backboard, she quickly briefed them and jumped down from the bus.

The frown lines in her forehead deepened as she drew closer to the men, and just as she was about to reprimand Cal for his unprofessionalism, he suddenly threw himself into the water, with no regard for any of the possible dangers the canal posed.

She momentarily froze. But then she threw her whole body round, screamed at Iain to grab the rescue equipment, and ran for the side of the canal.

'What the hell is going on?!' she tried not to panic the father and daughter, but she wasn't hiding it well. Her head jerked back and forth as she tried to press an answer out of the pair while searching the water for Cal.

They wouldn't budge. Neither of them spoke the entire time Dixie was yelling at them, or while she waited for an answer, or while Iain ran over with the equipment, a firefighter not far behind.

'What's going on?' Iain queried, picking up on Dixie's panic. The equipment in his hands was tangled from where he had hastily grabbed it from the fire engine.

'It's Cal, Iain. It's Cal,' she answered, gesturing with her hands to get him to set up the equipment.

'Cal? What? What happened; did he fall in?'

'He jumped!'

'He _jumped_?!'

As the two paramedics tried to simultaneously untangle the events and the ropes, there was a sudden rush of water as Cal's head emerged from the canal.

' _Cal!_ ' Iain and Dixie yelled in unison, before the doctor took a huge breath and disappeared beneath the murky waters again.

'Is there someone in there?' Dixie asked, tangling her fingers in the equipment as she desperately tried to help her colleague.

'No, I checked,' Iain answered, and when Dixie cocked her head as if to say _are you sure_ , he emphasised, 'there was _no-one_ in that canal. I got these two out,' he gestured towards the father and daughter, 'but, Dix, there was no-one else in there.'

'Alright,' she nodded, trying to calm herself. 'Alright. Someone must have fallen in.'

They had finally managed to untangle the equipment just as Cal burst out through the water again. Iain and Dixie paused to assess the situation, both frowning deeply as they realised who he was clinging on to.

'It's Ethan,' Dixie breathed out. 'Come on!' She wrenched the equipment to the side of the canal, and Iain stumbled as he reacted to her pulling the equipment from him.

When Cal had emerged from the water, he had been expecting Ethan to suddenly start breathing again, as if the air would have jolted him into realising he could inhale again. But he didn't. Cal's eyes adjusted to the air and when the black spots in his vision began to dissipate, he shook Ethan with the arm that was clasping him. 'Ethan,' Cal choked, pushing his brother's forehead back with his free hand to keep his face out of the water and as a haphazard attempt at opening his airway. 'Come on, Nibbles.'

'Cal!'

Cal had been so preoccupied with trying to wake Ethan up that he hadn't noticed Dixie and Iain setting up the rescue equipment. His chest was burning still but he started to swim towards the ladder with his remaining arm, dragging his brother with him. 'Don't do this to me, now, Ethan. Don't you dare.'

As he reached the ladder, he could feel Ethan slipping from his grasp so he tightened his grip and lunged for the ladder, letting out a shout of frustration and pent up desperation as his knuckles smashed into the canal wall. The fireman who had accompanied Iain and Dixie to set up the equipment kneeled to take Ethan from Cal but the older brother would not let go of him. He was going to save Ethan if it killed him. He'd done it before; he could do it again.

'Cal, hand him over!' Iain yelled at him as he grasped each rung of the ladder and they twisted and strained under the extra weight.

Cal ignored them. If he handed Ethan over they might do something wrong. He knew they were perfectly qualified and he knew they saved countless lives all the time, but he couldn't see anyone saving Ethan except him. He didn't trust them. Maybe it was a matter of pride. Cal didn't care. All he knew was that the last time Ethan needed him, he was there. He saved him, just like he was always supposed to

And he was going to save him now.

As he climbed closer to the ledge, he finally let Iain help to pull Ethan over the side: 'Help him, please'.

The paramedic pulled Ethan about three metres away from the canal, knelt down and tipped the doctor's head back to listen for breathing, pushing two fingers to his neck at the same time. 'Ethan? Can you hear me, son?'

Cal pulled himself up over the ledge on to his stomach. He scrambled to his knees, using his hands to pull himself towards his unconscious brother, his hands buoyed over his brother's body. He didn't know where to start. He noticed the blueish tinge to Ethan's face. _Is there a pulse?_

'Iain, I _said_ , is there a pulse?!' Cal burst out at the paramedic, who jerked his head up in surprise. It was then that Cal realised he hadn't said the question aloud in the first place. But instead of apologising, he shoved the paramedic's shoulder and took his place trying to find Ethan's pulse. Dixie dropped beside Ethan, holding his head still. She immediately noticed the bruising underneath Ethan's eyes. He'd lost his glasses.

'Iain, can you grab the ambulance, please?' Dixie said in the calmest voice she could muster. 'Quickly.'

'Ethan, come on,' Cal said, desperately searching for his brother's pulse. 'Ethan.' He laid his head on Ethan's chest but he couldn't stop shaking and he couldn't figure out whether it was his or his brother's heartbeat ringing in his ears. He began to remove Ethan's freezing cold waterlogged uniform, but the zip got caught and Cal frantically tugged at it, screaming in frustration when it wouldn't move.

'Cal –'

'No!' Cal cut Dixie off, struggling with the zip still. 'He is _not_ dying. Not today.'

Incensed, Cal grabbed the two sides of the zip and ripped open the uniform to reveal a white t-shirt underneath. He clasped his hands together and began pumping his brother's chest, unaware of the pain he should have been feeling from his broken knuckles.

'Ethan, I swear,' he muttered. He paused the CPR and moved his face towards Ethan's to breathe into his mouth. He could smell the blood from Ethan's nose and could taste the metallicity on his lips and it made him want to throw up, but he kept reminding himself that if blood was still pumping, that meant, somehow, Ethan was still alive.

As Cal resumed CPR, sirens began blaring and Iain pulled up the ambulance as close as possible to them. Dixie jumped up and opened the doors, and was about to unload the bed when Cal shoved his arms underneath Ethan's limp form, forced his exhausted body to rise and jostled Ethan into the back of the ambulance.

Iain had already pushed on the accelerator before Dixie had shut the doors.

Cal reminded himself to be careful with Ethan as he placed him on the stretcher, but his body wasn't cooperating and he half-threw his brother onto the bed, and then climbed atop, his knees on either side of Ethan's torso, to resume his CPR with enough force to break his ribs.

Dixie placed an oxygen mask over Ethan's face and, trying to stay calm, placed a hand on Cal's trembling shoulder. 'Cal, love,' she said. 'Do you want me to take over?'

'No,' Cal said, not slowing his CPR. 'He needs me.'

'Okay,' Dixie said quietly, 'Okay, love.' She busied herself by setting up a line for morphine and saline.

After about ninety seconds of furious chest pumping, Cal leaned back, exhausted. His own chest heaved as he took in large gulps of air, still feeling the twinge as his lungs recovered from the lack of oxygen he had suffered earlier.

Dixie gestured for him to get off the bed and checked for a pulse. 'I'm going to intubate.' She considered asking Cal for his permission, but she inwardly reproached herself. _I am a paramedic. I do not need his permission. Just do your job._ As it happened, Cal merely glanced up and nodded clumsily, climbing off the trolley to let Dixie work.

He watched, helpless. His eyes traced over Ethan's body, from his blood-smeared face to his uniform and then down to his feet. Holding onto the ceiling rails, he tripped over to Ethan's feet and started to untie his shoes.

Dixie looked up briefly and threw Cal a look of concern. Cal returned the look, shrugging his shoulders. 'His feet will be cold,' he offered meekly. 'I should take his shoes off, and his socks, and…and warm them up, warm his feet up. Yeah. I need to warm him up.' _Why am I not doing something to help him? There must be something I can do._ Cal rolled his shoulders out of his own jacket but dropped it on the floor when he realised it wouldn't help the situation at all. _Why am I being so useless?!_

He watched Dixie fix the intubation tube through Ethan's mouth. _I could have done that. I should have done that._ She measured Ethan's vital signs. 'Cal, I've got a pulse.'

Suddenly, the ambulance swung to the left and came to a sudden stop. The movement cut into Cal's thoughts and he suddenly sprang into action, and when Iain threw the doors open, he helped to move the trolley out and began sprinting alongside it, clasping Ethan's freezing cold hand. 'Almost there, Nibbles. Keep fighting,' he whispered, pushing Ethan's hair back and wiping a speck of blood away from his forehead with his thumb. 'You can do this.'

They smashed the trolley through the doors of the Emergency Department. Tess, Lofty and Lily were waiting for them, but it was clear that none of them had been told that it was Ethan who was the casualty. Cal felt like it took hours before everybody started reacting.

He knew who he wanted. 'Where's Ms Beauchamp?'

'Dr Knight,' Connie was suddenly behind him, hearing her summons. 'What's happening here? Ethan?'

'He was drowning,' Cal choked out, 'He needed – he needs help.'

'Alright,' Connie replied, needing no more from the traumatised man. 'Dixie?'

'Okay, Ethan was in the water for at least ten minutes, maybe more. KO'd at the scene and hasn't regained consciousness. He suffered cardiac arrest but Cal administered CPR and we intubated and he came back to us. GCS 4, pulse 95, BP 80 over 50, and his sats are low at 85 percent. He has a severe facial laceration, suspected broken nose,' Dixie reeled off robotically. 'He's had five of morphine; 1.5 litres of saline. Okay?' she asked as they slammed through the RESUS doors.

'Cal, you can't be in here,' Tess appeared, placing her hands gently on his chest and pushing him away from the team of doctors. Ethan's hand fell from his grip and hung limply over the side of the bed.

'No,' he whimpered, his eyes flitting between RESUS and Tess. 'No, Tess, I have to help.' His voice was cracking. 'He's my little brother.'

'I know,' she soothed, pushing him further away and gesturing for help. 'Robyn? Can you take Cal to cubicles, please? We need to warm you up and take a look at that hand.'

Robyn nodded and began to lead Cal away but he fought against her and kept talking. 'Tess, tell them he was punched.'

'What?' she replied, horrified. 'By who?'

'A patient,' Cal said, breathing heavily, his voice thick with emotion. 'He might have… he might have a head trauma – he needs a CT. Someone needs to check his head. He was punched; I know he was.' Cal ran his hand through his hair and, for the first time, felt the pain radiating from his knuckles.

Tess gave him a slight nod. 'Alright. Alright, Cal. We're going to take care of him,' she reassured, before disappearing back to RESUS.

Cal allowed Robyn to take him to cubicles, where she started asking him for his locker key so she could grab him some dry clothes. He handed it over, in a daze, and she shoved the curtain round and hurried off. Cal began mulling over everything he'd done in that last half hour. Had he done everything right? Was it by the book? Who cared if it was by the book if it had saved Ethan's life?

He sat on the edge of the cubicle bed, listening to the bustling sounds of the hospital, and wondered how the world could keep moving when his had most definitely stopped.

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	4. Shock

**Thank you SO much for your reviews! I can't tell you how happy it makes me to receive them, although I'm sure some of you know the feeling. I'm so glad I started writing on here again.**

 **Right! Enjoy :)**

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'Here,' Robyn said as she handed Cal a coffee on her return to his cubicle. 'I put in extra sugar for the shock.'

'Have you heard anything?' Cal replied, watching his hand shake as he lifted the Styrofoam cup to his lips.

'On Ethan? No.' Robyn wouldn't make eye contact with Cal. 'I need to treat your hand once you've changed,' she said, altering the direction of the conversation. She placed the folded clothes and a towel in front of him on the bed. 'Do you need any help?'

'No,' Cal said, indignant. He took a sip from the coffee but scrunched his face up and reeled his head back, sticking his tongue out. 'Fuck, Robyn. How much sugar is in this?' He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm.

'Extra,' she shrugged. 'Just drink it. I'll be back in five minutes.'

'No chance,' Cal muttered as she left, tipping coffee over the floor as he tried to balance it on the bedside table. He groaned but the part of him that cared about was not enough for him to actually try to clean it up.

As he began peeling off his saturated uniform, all he could think was that someone was going to walk in at any moment and tell him that Ethan was dead. That all that time Cal had spent fighting to save his brother had been wasted because he'd died in RESUS anyway. That it hadn't mattered how long Cal had taken to get Ethan out of the water, or how much he'd talked to him, or whether he'd managed to resuscitate him, because his fate had been sealed as soon as he'd hit the water.

Cal shook his head of those thoughts. _Ethan is still alive. Of course Ethan is still alive. He can't be dead. Ethan can't die._

'Cal?' Robyn's voice vibrated through the curtain.

Cal once again shook himself of his thoughts and shoved his t-shirt over his head and zipped up his jeans with one hand. 'Yeah?'

Robyn didn't reply, neither did she open the curtain.

'Robyn?' Cal called, furrowing his eyebrows and tilting his head towards the curtain. 'Robyn?'

Cal pushed the curtain aside and saw Tess and Robyn turned away from the curtain, speaking in hushed voices. He cleared his throat and they both jumped and turned to look at him.

'Care to let me in on this…?' Cal waved his hand in front of him to finish the sentence.

The two women's mouths faltered as they waited for each other to reply to him.

'E-Ethan –' Robyn began but Tess cut her off.

'Robyn, can you tend to Cubicle 5 please? Cal, do you want to sit down?' she said, gently touching Cal on the arm to guide him to the bed.

Cal snatched his arm away and refused to sit. 'What's happened to Ethan?' His eyes flitted between the two women, impatient for an answer.

'Cal, just –' Tess tried to guide him again but he dodged her.

'No! Tell me what's going on, Tess.' She gave him one of her looks, pursing her lips, but Cal stood firm. 'Don't lie to me.'

'Alright,' Tess nodded, taking a deep breath before continuing. 'They're having a hard time reviving Ethan in RESUS. After you brought him in, he…relapsed and – Cal! Cal, come back!'

Cal had already pushed Tess out of the way and was making his way to RESUS. He marched straight over, barging past relatives with coffee and robotically snaking his way through wheelchairs and crutches. He used both hands to smash open the doors to RESUS, his body wracking with emotion as he forgot totally, once again, about his own injuries. _How could this have happened? I only left him for twenty minutes._

'Get him out of here, please,' Zoe called as she administered heavy CPR to Ethan, but nobody moved.

'He's asystolic,' Connie stated, but her professionalism was wavering. 'Shock him again.'

Cal flinched as Ethan's body was lifted off the body by the shock. The range of medical personnel all paused and waited for the line on the monitor to pick up again, but it didn't.

Zoe, Connie and Dylan all looked to each other. None of them would make eye contact with Cal.

Zoe dipped her head and opened her mouth.

'Try again,' Cal ordered, breathing heavily.

Zoe looked at Connie and she nodded her head once. 'Alright,' she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. 'Shock him again, please.'

They shocked Ethan again. Cal did not look at anyone, keeping his gaze steady on his brother's face, as if that would be the first indication of life from him. The long wailing sound from the heart monitor didn't falter.

' _Try again_ ,' Cal emphasised, and when nobody moved, he broke his eye contact with Ethan's face. 'Did you not hear me?! I _said_ , _try again_!' he yelled, stepping forward.

Lofty walked forward to comfort him but Cal was having none of it. ' _Try again_!' he screamed, 'Try again, damn it! Why aren't you doing anything?!' Cal saw Connie's lip twitch as she inwardly debated between emotion and professionalism.

He tried to step forward to treat his brother himself but ended up sinking to his knees, screaming and crying. ' _Ethan_! Ethan, wake up! Tell them you're not dead, God damn it! _Ethan!_ Stop it! Stop pretending!'

He let out a scream of pure anguish, tipping his head to the ceiling. ' _Please_ , Ethan!'

'Move,' Connie commanded, pushing through the people around Ethan's bedside.

'Connie –' Zoe started.

'Out of my way. Get ready to shock him.'

Cal wasn't paying attention; he was mourning his brother. He was screaming and cursing and pleading with Ethan to wake up, sobbing into his hands.

There was an almighty crack as Connie clasped her hands together and slammed them both down on Ethan's heart. The wailing sound faltered.

' _Shock him,_ ' Connie instructed, stepping back.

They shocked him.

* * *

 **Okay, so this chapter is sliiiightly shorter than the others, but I wanted to leave you all on a cliffhanger ;)**

 **I did _a lot_ of research for this chapter which is why there was a wait but not too many words haha. I'll update as soon as possible! **


	5. Regrets

**Thank you for the lovely reviews! I tried not to keep you waiting too long :) x**

* * *

 ** _7 hours earlier_**

'Cal! Come on!' Ethan yelled through his brother's bedroom door, scrambling for his keys. 'Where are they?' he muttered. ' _Cal, come on!_ We're going to be late!'

Silence greeted him. Ethan half-rolled his eyes, experience advising him that a full eye roll would be effort wasted on his perpetually late older brother.

'Have you seen my keys?' he hollered as he entered the sitting room area, not necessarily expecting an answer but hoping for the best.

Ethan grabbed cushions from the sofa and threw them to the floor, digging his hands down the sides of the furniture, searching frantically. When he couldn't find the keys, he stretched up and held a hand to his forehead, pausing to assess the mess he'd made. He almost rushed to the next room to keep searching, but his orderliness got the better of him and he pieced the sofa back together again, patting and fluffing the cushions.

' _Cal!_ ' he yelled once more, clearing his throat slightly when the shouting got too much for him. 'I'm leaving,' he endeavoured, knowing full well there was nowhere he could go without his keys but hoping that his threat might get his brother moving.

Lazy, plodding steps answered him and Cal cockily wandered into the room, shrugging on his jacket. 'How were you going to go anywhere without these?' he asked, raising an eyebrow and chucking Ethan's keys to him.

Ethan caught the bunch against his chest and tipped his head to the side, letting out a defeated sigh. 'Really?'

Cal shrugged, gave his brother a half smile and left the room to grab some cereal.

Ethan clambered after him. 'Cal, you don't have time for breakfast. Come on.'

'There's always time for breakfast, Ethan,' Cal replied, taking extra time to pick out which box he wanted. 'What's got you all hot and bothered anyway?'

'I'm not _hot and bothered_ , _we're late_ ,' Ethan emphasised, grabbing the cereal box Cal had brought down from the cupboard and shoving it on the side. 'You can eat at work. Move.' He pushed Cal out the kitchen towards the front door, prompting his older brother to silently mimic him.

'I saw that,' Ethan warned, quickly turning back and placing the box back in its rightful place in the cupboard.

'Saw what?' Cal taunted, grabbing an apple from the table and throwing it in the air as Ethan shoved him out the front door.

'Get in the car,' the younger brother snapped as he walked round to the driver's side, yanking out the wing mirror.

' _God_ , alright, Mum,' Cal said, climbing in, but he froze when Ethan abruptly halted his panicking and breathed out a cynical mumble, pursing his lips. Cal suddenly remembered what day it was.

Then the younger man shook his head vaguely and exhaled sharply, putting the key in the engine and turning it. 'Why did you even have my keys anyway? Where are yours?'

'At work,' Cal replied awkwardly, 'I'm sorry, Ethan, I didn't realise –'

'Why are they at work?' Ethan interrupted, focusing all his energy on the road.

'I left them there. Ethan,' Cal pressed, keeping his head twisted to the side to look at his brother. 'I know what today is. It's the anniversary of Mum's death.'

Ethan let out a small laugh, the corners of his mouth turning up momentarily. 'Don't count the days that quickly, Caleb. It's only been nine months.'

 _For fuck's sake, Cal. Only you would forget when your own mother died_ , Cal inwardly reproached himself. 'Well, even so,' he spoke, trying to put extra thought into each word, 'I know this must still be hard for you.'

'Hm,' Ethan back-channelled, 'Not that hard for you, though, is it, Caleb?'

Cal swivelled his eyes up to the ceiling of the car, composing himself before he spoke. 'You were closer to her.' _So much closer._ 'You loved her a lot and you cared for her a lot, so all I'm saying, is that I understand, if you're taking it hard,' he reasoned, channelling his emotions into his hand movements because he was finding it hard to figure out what to say.

'Gee, thanks, Cal,' Ethan replied, turning into the ED car park. 'I can sleep soundly at night now, knowing that you can acknowledge that I loved our mother.'

Cal deflated, knowing that, even as the fast talker he knew himself to be, there was not much he could say to make this situation better. 'She loved you, too, Ethan. A lot. You were always her favourite,' he offered lamely as Ethan pulled into a parking space.

Ethan considered his possible responses. One: he could reply with a snarky comment; his specialty. He even already had one lined up. Two: he could reply with _No, don't be silly, Cal, she loved you way more_. Three: they could get out of the car and Ethan could let out his frustration on Cal's face, with no hope of winning. Or four:

'Thank you, Caleb,' he replied, unbuckling his seatbelt. He didn't have time for this.

Cal was not expecting that response. He reeled his head back an inch or two, furrowing his brow and moving his eyes from side to side, as Ethan exited the vehicle. 'Uhh,' Cal finally declared, getting out of the car and following Ethan to the boot. 'Is that it? That's all you're going to say?'

'Yes,' Ethan replied curtly, grabbing a bag out of the boot and handing it to Cal. 'Look, Cal, I don't want to fight. I _never_ want to fight. There's no point. Can we just forget this ever happened, please?'

He slammed the boot shut, locked the car, and walked around Cal to reach the ED. Cal, momentarily dumbfounded, forced his body round and called Ethan's name. The younger doctor turned to face him expectantly.

 _Love you_.

That was what Cal was trying to say. That was what he wanted to say. That's how most adult siblings would try to resolve their fight.

When Ethan pushed his glasses up his nose, patient but confused, Cal finally opened his mouth, gearing himself for what he was about to say.

'I won't steal your keys again.'

Ethan tipped his head up, his eyes frowning but his mouth smiling, bemused. 'Alright,' he said, chuckling. 'Thank you, Cal. Shall we go do our jobs now?'

Cal nodded, following his brother into the ED.

 ** _Present time_**

The piercing sound from the heart monitor suddenly began to split itself into separate bleeps.

The distraught man on the floor ceased his pulling on his hair and lifted his head from his hands, watching the line on the monitor begin moving again. He watched for a few more seconds, waiting for someone to tell him it wasn't real.

Connie stepped back from the bed, breathing heavily.

'Connie, how did you –?'

'Pericardial thump,' she replied, regaining her composure to look Zoe in the face. 'I've only ever done it once before… and this was the only time it was successful,' she admitted, turning to look at Cal as Lofty helped him stand up. 'Cal, you can stay with him for one minute, but then we're going to have to move him up to Darwin.'

He looked at her, his eyes childlike. 'Are you, er… are you going to put him on bypass?'

She nodded. 'We're going to warm his blood up. He's suffering from severe hypothermia, possibly a collapsed lung. We won't know until we send him to Darwin.'

Cal nodded. 'Thank you,' he breathed out. 'Thank you.'

He barrelled towards her and, without thinking, wrapped his arms around her. 'Oh,' Connie said in surprise, stiffening but patting his back lightly. 'Dr Knight.'

'Sorry,' Cal leaned back. 'Sorry. Just…thank you. For saving him. Thank you.'

'Yes, well,' Connie wryly smiled. 'He's not out of the woods yet.' She turned away to leave, gesturing to the other doctors and nurses to follow her. 'One minute, Dr Knight.'

Cal exhaled a long, shaky breath, tipping his head to the ceiling in overtiredness. He ran his hand through his hair and turned to look at Ethan, pale and small in the hospital bed, a tube shoved down his throat, and his face still splattered with blood.

Cal stepped closer and grabbed Ethan's hand, bending over his body. 'God, Ethan. Stop doing this to me.' He intertwined his fingers with Ethan's and held his brother's hand to his face, his eye twitching at the difference in their skin temperatures. 'I don't think I can take this again.'

He positioned Ethan's hand back by his side neatly and, exhausted, rested his forehead against Ethan's, breathing out heavily. 'I love you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I should have. I love you,' he muttered, scrunching his face up as his emotions got the better of him. 'I love you; I love you; I love you.'

'Dr Knight,' Connie pronounced from the doorway, quietly but with her usual air of authority. 'We need to take Ethan up to Darwin now.'

 _Had it been a minute already?_

Cal kept his forehead pressed to Ethan's for a few more moments, eyes squeezed shut. He was torn between not wanting to let him out of his sight again and knowing he needed specialist treatment. He nodded his head against Ethan's and kissed his brother's forehead before standing up and signalling to Connie that they could take him.

Three nurses entered the room and began wheeling Ethan's bed out of the room, with Connie flashing Cal a sympathetic smile and then turning to follow them.

Cal ran a hand through his hair and fell to a crouching position on the floor, the remaining emotion he'd been holding in pouring out. He had been trying to keep it together, but the moment he'd thought Ethan was dead, he felt like his whole world was falling apart. His body shook with sobs.

'Come on, mate,' he heard Lofty's voice speak and an arm wrapped around his back and gently forced him to stand. 'You need to sleep. I'll wrap up that hand for you.'

Cal let his friend guide him to the on-call room. He wanted to protest and tell Lofty that he had no time to sleep, that Ethan needed him, but his body was drained and his hand felt like it was about to fall off. He told himself he'd stay awake as long as possible, unless somebody came to talk to him about Ethan, but as soon as he laid his body down, he was asleep.

He needed someone to look out for him, too.

* * *

 **I only managed to finish this chapter because I was inspired by the Cal/Ethan stuff in yesterday's episode - writer's block reared its ugly head but I fought it off :P**

 **Thought I'd give Cal a break for a while! Only a while though... don't expect it to last ;)**

 **Yay, Ethan's alive! You didn't really think I'd kill him, did you?**

 **Also, if you're wondering where the man who hurt Ethan in the first place has disappeared to... don't worry, you won't have to wait too much longer!**

 **Please review if you have time! It means the world :) xx**


	6. If and When

**I KNOW IT'S BEEN A YEAR AND I AM SO SORRY. Reasons explained below :D **

**For now, I'll just let you read because I have delayed this long enough lol.**

* * *

Cal had only been asleep for 45 minutes. He knew it had only been 45 minutes because he had set an alarm. He'd actually set the alarm for an hour but assumed that he had just awoken fifteen minutes earlier than he was supposed to, greeted with the empty corridor of Darwin he'd chosen as his hotel for the night. But as he blinked at the offensively bright numbers on his watch and scanned the corridors for movement, he began to wonder if it was, in fact, 4:07 in the _morning_.

Swinging his legs off the stretcher he had stolen (although if asked, he would say _borrowed_ ), he allowed his exhausted legs to carry him to the nearest familiar face. He passed a few nurses who he'd previously spent nights with, and a couple F1s he had once talked through a procedure, but they wouldn't be able to tell him what was going on, and most of them appeared unwilling to look him in the face anyway. It didn't matter. He was looking for someone in particular. He was looking for his brother.

His brother.

Where was his calm in the face of all this madness? Why hadn't he, too, stolen a few hours of sleep in the corridor in the midst of such a bad day? Had he gone home without him? Was he still at the RTC?

'Cal,' Dixie's voice broke his thoughts. Cal's head shot quickly towards the woman, eyebrows creased together in confusion. 'Cal, don't you think… Sweetheart.'

He felt like someone had just slammed a hammer into his chest. All of his questions had suddenly and excruciatingly been answered, just by this affectionate nickname. Nobody spoke to him like that unless something was terribly wrong. Desperately trying to return to his sleepy state of confusion and obliviousness, Cal's brain was in overdrive. _Ethan had died. Died in front of him. He'd heard the sound. He'd heard his little brother die._

'Cal,' Dixie supported the weight of the taller man as his composure began to deteriorate and reality round-housed him in the jaw. 'Cal, s-sit down. Come here, love; sit down.'

Cal felt his back hit the wall as he slid down to a stop on the linoleum floors. He stared through the gap between his knees, trying to focus on something else. Control his breathing. Anything. Anything to override that God-awful sound; the blood; Ethan's bruised eyes; the tube shoved down his throat; the unnatural sound his chest made when Connie pulled him back from death. He couldn't focus. Nothing was helping. All he could think about was,

'Ethan,' Cal's mouth formed his name but he wasn't sure if his voice had followed. 'Ethan. Where is he? Where did they take him?' His voice sounded different even to himself: raw and scratchy.

'Yeah, yeah, he's here; he's awake.' Cal's head shot up to look at her, but his surprise was quickly allayed when he realised Dixie was on the phone and not answering his question. 'Yeah, I'll send him down.' She hung up but didn't look at him.

'Send me where? Dix, where am I going? Where do I have to go?' She didn't answer. 'Is he awake? Is he talking? Does he want to see me?'

Dixie bent to crouch in front of him, her knitted eyebrows and pursed lips speaking for themselves.

Cal let out a sort of incredulous laugh, but he could feel his eyes pricking. 'Dix,' he forced out. 'He is… _alive_ , isn't he?'

'Yes,' Dixie answered, blowing out a shaky breath. 'Yes, Cal, he's alive, but…' She tightened her mouth and nose to stop herself from showing emotion. 'He's in ITU. He's, um…' She blinked slowly. 'He's not breathing on his own yet. Love, I don't—'

Cal scrambled to his feet, bringing Dixie with him.

'Cal,' Dixie tried to reason with him, catching his arms attempting to bat her away.

'I have to go.' Cal's voice was quiet but firm. Even when he spared a look at his colleague, his eyes stared straight through her. His focus was entirely on his brother. 'I have to go, Dix. Wh-wh—' He ran his hands down his face, frustrated. 'Where do I go? Wh-where am I going, Dixie?'

'Cal, Cal,' she finally caught his wrists. 'ITU. You know where that is, love.'

There was a moment while Cal's eyes flitted around, almost as if he was catching up with himself. 'Yeah,' he almost chuckled. 'Yeah, of course I do.'

He turned on his heel and began running. Dixie considered calling after him, but she knew it was no use. He wasn't going to turn back for anything.

When Cal threw the doors open to ITU, Connie and Mr Self were waiting for him. Had everyone stayed here for Ethan? Cal had only met Mr Self a couple of times, but he knew he wasn't the most compassionate person. Maybe Mrs Beauchamp had convinced him to stay.

'Dr Knight.' Connie was so quick to speak it was almost as if she was interrupting Cal before he'd even opened his mouth. 'How are you feeling?'

'Fine; how's Ethan?' Cal didn't need small talk.

'Dr Knight, this is Mr Self, our consultant neurosurgeon. I'm sure you've met on your travels before.' Connie gestured to the man next to her and he held out a hand but Cal ignored it.

'How's Ethan?'

'Dr Knight.'

Connie gently stared Cal down until he couldn't help but soften his approach. He turned to Guy and shook his still outstretched hand. They nodded at each other in the way that only two headstrong professionals can. 'Mr Self.' 'Dr Knight.'

After what Cal felt was a suitable amount of silent respect had passed between the three, he resumed his interrogation. 'Can you tell me how he is, now?'

Guy stepped backward, ushering Cal through the room to stop near a set of double doors, which Cal assumed to be leading to his brother. While both Connie and Guy blocked Cal from reaching the doors like a strangely matched pair of bouncers, they couldn't stop him from trying to peer behind them.

'Dr Knight, I need to fill you in on the details of Dr Hardy's condition before you see him,' Guy said, holding his chin high enough to assert his authority over the younger doctor.

'His name is Ethan,' Cal replied. 'He's not a doctor right now. He's Ethan.' Guy jarred his jaw to stop himself from lashing out.

'Cal,' Connie said gently, placing a hand calmly on his arm. 'I know you're upset. We're all upset. But you need to know what's happening with Ethan. You've both been through a very traumatic experience and I'll be honest with you: this is only the start. That may not be what you want to hear right now, but the only way you can begin to process everything that's happened is to listen to what Mr Self has to say. Alright?'

Cal had never seen Mrs Beauchamp in personal distress, but he wondered if she was always this calm and collected in these situations. He nodded slowly and let Mr Self talk.

He tried so hard to keep his attention focused on the neurosurgeon's words, but as phrases like _oxygen deprivation_ and _traumatic brain injury_ and _intubation tube_ and _possibility of major mental or physical deficits_ were thrown at him, all he needed was to see his brother again. Perhaps if he could see Ethan for himself, touch him, talk to him, he would wake up and prove them all wrong. Maybe he just needed a little push. Maybe he was scared of waking up in front of these people. They were colleagues but they weren't his brother. Maybe he had stage fright and he needed Cal to help him. Cal wasn't a doctor right now; he was Ethan's big brother.

'We won't know more until he's awake. Are you ready to see him now?' Mr Self finished, tilting his head to recapture Cal's attention and knowing full well that even as a doctor, this man was bewildered by his spiel.

Cal nodded. He had never been more ready for anything.

'Okay,' Connie confirmed, knowing, too, that Cal would not be listening to anything else until he had seen Ethan. She pushed the door lightly inward and let Cal do the rest.

The door swung shut behind the man, but for a few seconds he kept a hold of the handle to steady himself. He forced his legs to move forward, falling from the support of the door to resting his hands on the bed rail. His eyes trailed up and down the unresponsive body of his brother, his life confirmed only by the numerous machines singing their off-tune songs.

Ethan lay almost completely still, except for the sparse rising and falling of his chest. A tube craned out of his throat, accompanied by a dressing over his nose. The bruising under his eyes had settled on a reddish-purple shade and a small cut lay between his eyebrows where the bridge of his glasses were supposed to sit. He had been treated for a collapsed lung and Cal remembered vaguely being told that they would be running more tests if and when he woke up.

 _If and when_.

Letting out a tiny strangled sob, Cal released the bed railings and fell into a chair, scraping it as close as possible to Ethan. He grabbed his brother's hand and held it against his face, thankful for this time not feeling a sudden drop in temperature. Holding his hand close, Cal laid his head down next to Ethan, face turned towards the younger one's in the hopes he could watch for movement.

'Thanks for not dying, Nibbles,' Cal clawed out from the back of his throat. Ethan would need to hear his voice. 'Now you just have to wake up. Mr Self said it might be soon. You know Mr Self, right? Grey hair, always looks a little like he's screwed your sister in the med cupboard. He knows what he's doing, Eth, I promise.' Cal reached out to touch Ethan's hair and push it back the way Ethan would want it. 'And I won't let him hurt you, little brother. Nobody's gonna hurt you, not while I'm here. And I'm gonna get the guy that did this. I am.'

Cal wanted to talk to him more, to let him know that he was there. But even after sleeping pretty much the whole night, his eyes were heavy and he had this heavy pounding sensation radiating throughout his forehead. He let his head fall towards the bed, keeping Ethan's hand cushioned underneath his, a reminder of his being there. He would be there _if and when_ Ethan woke up.

* * *

 **I know not much happened in this chapter but I have big plans for next chapter (teaser: Ethan wakes up), so please let me know if you are still interested in this story as I know it's been a while. I went away studying abroad for a year and it was just too hard to keep up with this as well; I can't tell you how much I've missed it though!**

 **Also I know that there are at least 3 characters already in this story that are no longer in the programme… but they're staying because I suck and I'm not changing the story. I'm thinking the whole Emilie—adoption—Huntington's thing is probably not a thing in this story as… well, that just wouldn't make sense, would it, really?**

 **I also have plans to start a new Cal & Ethan story but probably one where both are in jeopardy because why hurt one when you have two to play with, right? Lol. **

**I promise the next chapter will be up ASAP (within a year, at least… I'm kidding. Next week.)**


	7. Superhero

**Hey, look at that, it wasn't a year this time! Prepare yourself for some drama, kids: two huge things are about to go down. (I got quite excited writing this chapter...) Hope you like it!**

* * *

It seemed as if Cal had taken the phrase _if and when_ almost a little too seriously. For three straight days, he would hang in and around Ethan's hospital room. He would take his vitals before anyone on duty had a chance to, and each night, would fall asleep on the green couch he had dragged from the relatives' room next to Ethan's bed on the second night. Any change in Ethan's levels and Cal would dedicate hours trying to figure out what had caused it and whether it was good or bad.

By the time the fourth day rolled around, some of the ITU nurses were describing him as unbearable. Relatives are bad at the best of times, they would say, but relatives who actually _knew_ what they were talking about were just the worst. They felt they were being watched, and they were. Cal would only leave the room if Mr Self or Mrs Beauchamp called him out.

Except on the fourth day, Connie came to him. She sat on the couch next to him, where he was leaning his elbow on the armrest and watching Ethan's mouth for twitches, and crossed her legs towards him.

Cal didn't move, waiting for her to initiate the conversation. He knew better than to interrupt Mrs Beauchamp when she was on a mission, and she clearly was. But after a few seconds had passed and Connie had still said nothing, he flicked his eyes towards her and allowed his head to follow shortly after he'd assessed the dangers.

Just as he opened his mouth, she beat him to it. 'How's he doing?'

Cal couldn't help but feel like he probably looked like a fish as he closed and opened his mouth. 'Good. His vitals are pretty stable and I'm thinking of seeing how he responds without intubation soon. He had a spike in temperature on… Tuesday, but it went down pretty quickly so I think that's fine. Oh, and I'm 95 per cent sure he moved his right index finger yesterday.'

Connie nodded, but there was an emotion behind her eyes that Cal couldn't quite put his finger on. Sympathy? Pity?

'Cal,' Connie closed her eyes momentarily as if preparing herself to answer him.

'Look, I know what it looks like,' Cal held his hands up, already regretting interrupting her but knowing he couldn't let her finish her statement. 'I know it looks like nothing's changed. I know it looks like I'm clutching at straws. But I'm not. I know I'm not. He moved yesterday; he definitely did. And I know spikes in temperature don't always mean anything but maybe, maybe it means he's fighting, you know? His body is trying to adjust and kick in. I really, really think he's coming to, I really –'

'Dr Knight,' Connie interjected abruptly. 'I'm not here about Ethan, although I'm glad he's being well looked after.' Cal frowned, but before he could ask, she answered: 'I'm here to ask a favour of you.'

Cal cocked his head and his eyes darted from side to side. 'What kind of favour?'

'We've had a sudden influx of patients from the RTC. They're complaining of chest and stomach pains and vomiting. We haven't pinpointed the exact cause yet but it's definitely related to the accident. We're overwhelmed down there. And with Dr Hardy…' She flashed a look at the younger doctor and then back to the older one, who nodded sadly, '…we're already one doctor down.'

Cal's face tightened as he sunk his teeth into his top lip. 'And you want me to come down and help?'

Her mouth twitched. 'If you could.'

Cal turned to Ethan and searched for any signs of movements, a reason to stay. But his mouth didn't twitch, his eyes didn't open and his fingers stayed completely still. Cal swallowed the lump in his throat and turned back to Connie. 'What if…?'

'I will personally see to it that you are updated on any news regarding your brother,' Connie promised. She went to reach out comfortingly but pushed her emotions behind her professional front. 'Alright?'

Cal let out a breath he hadn't even known he was holding in, taking one last look at Ethan and then pushing his focus to Connie. 'Alright.'

* * *

By the time they had reached the entrance to the ED, Cal could already see what Connie had meant. He had expected maybe a tiny exaggeration on her part, but he was proved wrong. There were no seats available and a queue that began at the front desk snaked around the waiting area. The room itself smelt of its normal chemical cleanliness but there was a definite twinge of vomit that Cal couldn't quite ignore. He made his way to the staff room and reached for his locker but, at the sight of Ethan's locker, froze.

He went to open it but stayed with his thumb balanced on the catch. He wasn't quite sure what he was scared of. It was almost as if Ethan's locker would pinpoint the exact moment his life had been paused. His phone and wallet were probably still in there. Cal wondered if anyone had texted Ethan but quickly reminded himself that pretty much everyone who knew him worked here in the hospital.

'Mate,' a strong hand on his shoulder shook him out of his train of thought. 'Are you working?'

'Yeah,' Cal said, throwing a grin on his face, opening his locker, pulling out his uniform and sliding past Jacob. 'The place is falling apart without me, mate.'

Jacob returned the fake smile. 'Oh, for sure, man, for sure. Place practically burned down without Caleb Knight, resident superhero.'

Cal laughed, and Jacob laughed, but neither actually sounded like they meant it and the smiles quickly disappeared off their faces.

'Right,' Jacob clapped his hands and pointed his thumbs behind him to the door. 'I'm gonna…'

'Yeah, mate, see you later,' Cal nodded and turned away to change his shirt, wondering briefly if, despite Jacob's valiant attempt, everyone was going to be awkward with him.

'Cal,' Jacob suddenly said and Cal jerked around, surprised. 'Just so you know, everyone… knows. So… if no-one asks, you know, we've kind of been told not to. It's not that we don't care or anything. I just thought you'd want to know, mate.'

Cal nodded slowly, processing the information. 'Thanks, Jacob.'

The other man smiled and nodded, then left.

Cal quickly found out how right Jacob had been. From the moment he stepped out the staff room, people were nodding at him and treating him totally normally. He helped a lady into cubicles and chatted to a receptionist. Zoe approached him and greeted him with her usual, 'Dr Knight,' before telling him, 'Walk with me.'

'I'm going to put you in cubicles, if that's alright,' she said, busying herself with paperwork. She launched a few folders into his arms, 'Cubicle Six, first, please.' She flashed him a smile and left.

Cal had expected to feel dazed and confused with the pace he hadn't experienced for a few days, but he had jumped right back into doctor mode.

'Maeve,' he announced as he pulled back the curtain to Cubicle Six, greeted with a fourteen-year-old girl. 'My name is Dr Knight and I'll be your doctor today. How are we doing? I hear you're having some pretty bad chest pain.'

As he looked up from the folder he was scanning, there were two things he noticed about Maeve. First, she looked pretty familiar, like maybe he'd treated her before – but he couldn't see his name in her notes anywhere. Second, she looked scared as hell.

'Hey, Maeve, it's alright,' Cal flashed his best smile at her. 'I'm going to look after you. Can you tell me how the pain is, now? How would you rate it, ten being fine and one being absolutely unbearable?'

'Um,' Maeve swallowed, and Cal could tell she was struggling to keep her breathing in check. 'Not too bad, really – a four?' she replied but it was more a question than a statement.

'It doesn't look like a four. Do you want some oxygen while I listen to your chest?'

Maeve shook her head. 'No, really, I'm fine.'

Cal frowned at her. She definitely seemed familiar, and a little uncooperative. No worries, though, because Cal knew he could thaw even the most hostile of teenagers. 'Right. And how long have you had the pain?' he asked as he pulled his stethoscope off his neck.

'Since the crash,' she answered but she had begun speaking into her lap.

'Why didn't you come in earlier?' Cal asked, listening to the crackly sounds through the stethoscope. 'This is pretty bad, Maeve.'

'I didn't want to be any trouble,' she answered, but she still wouldn't look at him. 'My eyes cleared up and I got warmer but I didn't want to come here again and annoy you guys. Eventually my dad said we should come back in.'

'Your dad?' Cal replied. 'Is he here with you? I think I'm going to have to send you for some tests so I'll need a parent's consent.'

'He's here; he went to get coffee from the shop. But it's fine, you know; I'm old enough. I can consent to the tests.'

'Oh, you can, can you?' Cal quipped, laughing a little. It felt good to laugh, even if he was putting it on. 'Well, unfortunately, I'll need your dad here. Shall we wait until he's back and then I'll talk you through what's going to happen, yeah?'

'Yeah,' Maeve mumbled. Cal noticed her begin to scratch her hand furiously, but before he could offer to take a look, she suddenly blurted out, 'How's Dr Hardy?'

Cal stopped everything he was doing and walked in front of Maeve. 'He's alright,' he lied easily. 'Not working today. Have you guys met before? I thought you looked familiar.'

She looked up, still scratching at her hand, so much it had gone a bright pink colour with white lines. There were tears in her eyes. 'He's alright? He's okay, really?'

'Um, well, I mean…' Cal scratched his face awkwardly. 'I shouldn't really–'

But as Maeve's face began to drop even more, he had a sudden realisation. _'He's in the water.'_

'Maeve. You're… the girl from the canal. Ethan – Dr Hardy – he treated you and your dad…' Cal trailed off as he realised what this meant.

'Maeve, how long until we can leave this joint?' a voice called from behind him.

Cal froze. He could feel the muscles in his arms tensing. 'You,' he snarled as he turned to face the man behind him.

'Dad–'

Cal couldn't help it: he saw red. He heard the screams and he felt the punches he was giving and receiving and he even felt the coffee burn his arm as it splattered to the floor but it didn't matter – none of it mattered – because he had found the person responsible for Ethan having to breathe through a tube. He hadn't even _found_ him: the guy had come _to him_. He'd had the _nerve_ to come back to the staff who treated him when he hadn't owned up to what he had done to one of their own. How many of the staff had treated him nicely today? How many of them had had small talk with him and laughed with him and talked about how horrible that crash had been for everyone? How many had –

 _'Caleb!'_

For a moment, Cal thought it was Ethan calling his name and almost stopped his beating. But he knew it couldn't be him and the arms around his body pulling him away from the man on the floor were not Ethan's.

Jacob, Lofty and Max had all seen it happen. Jacob had been filling Lofty in on Cubicle Two's notes and Max had been wheeling another patient up to Darwin. He had been in the elevator when the fight had erupted. They had all heard Cal yelling and this man spitting insults back at him, and all three had rushed to their friend's defence. But it had quickly become clear who was winning this fight and if they didn't stop it soon, the unknown man could quite well be dead.

'Let go of me! Get off me!'

'Cal, man, you gotta stop! Calm down, mate, it's not worth it.'

'Not _worth_ it!? It's _him_. _He's_ the guy who punched Ethan!'

For a second, Jacob almost let him go again. And if the other two hadn't been there, the amount Jacob loosened his grip may have been enough to allow him.

 _'Dr Knight,'_ Connie Beauchamp's voice cut through the commotion like ice. 'Please return to ITU.' Her voice was steady but it was clear that she, too, had forced herself to intervene.

* * *

Cal shook as he bandaged his own hand back in Ethan's room. His face ached and he knew that the guy had thrown a pretty mean punch square in his gut at one point. He winced as he pressed on the red patch on his forearm where the coffee had hit him.

'Eth, I screwed up,' he said, gritting his teeth and he pulled the bandage over his probably re-broken knuckles. 'I know you'd be so mad at me right now. If I'm fired by the time you wake up, it's totally your fault.' Cal looked up when he thought he heard his brother make a sound but inwardly scolded himself for being stupid. 'I thought that was you downstairs yelling at me. I thought, _Nibbles, here to save the day again._ Ha,' Cal chuckled to himself slightly. 'Stupid me,' he said softly, looking at his brother.

But as he looked, he could have sworn he saw Ethan's eye twitch. Then his nose, and his mouth.

'Nibbles?' Cal rose from the sofa and leaned over his brother, trying not to get excited but simultaneously feeling his heart beat faster and his movements become more erratic.

'Hey, it's okay,' Cal soothed as Ethan's heart rate began to pick up and his chest movements became irregular. 'Eth, just breathe.'

But as Ethan began to splutter and the machines began to bleep aggressively, Cal was panicking.

Because while relatives who actually _know_ what they're talking about are the worst, they can also tell when something is seriously wrong. And unfortunately this meant that Cal knew his brother wasn't just waking up; he was choking.

* * *

 **Are you excited? I'm excited.**

 **Thank you SO much to everyone who reviewed and expressed interest in this story - it means the absolute world. Until next time, amigos! I've already started writing the next chapter so it shouldn't too long of a wait.**


	8. Silence Isn't Golden

**Hello! Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews - they make me so happy! A lot of research went into this which is why it took a little longer to publish. Hope you enjoy this next installment!**

* * *

Ethan felt he'd been sleeping for months. The light infiltrating his eyelids affronted him and everything felt heavy. He felt like someone had a hand around his throat, but at the same time, just like he was suffering from really bad tonsillitis. His whole body felt swollen and hard to control. He couldn't swallow properly and while he could feel oxygen entering his lungs it didn't feel like he himself was breathing it in. He was stuck between wanting to return to the bliss of deep sleep and opening his eyes to stop the confusion.

 _Nibbles?_

Cal? It didn't quite sound like his brother's voice, but Ethan knew that the honour of that nickname belonged to no-one else. What had happened? Why was Cal in his bedroom? Had something happened?

 _Hey, it's okay._

Ethan could feel his chest getting tighter, and the more he panicked, the more his throat complained. There was something blocking his airway, he knew it. He just had no idea what it was or how it got there. He wanted to scream but nothing would leave his body.

 _Eth, just breathe._

He was trying. God, he was trying. He needed to get this thing off him or out of him or whatever it was doing to him. Bracing himself, he coughed as hard as he could to free himself from the torture.

 _It's okay, I'm here._

* * *

Cal felt like he was treating his very first patient all over again. He wanted so desperately to help Ethan by himself, but knew that in his current state and with his bandaged hand, he needed assistance. But Ethan was running out of time and Cal couldn't sit back and watch his brother suffer.

'It's okay, I'm here,' Cal reassured, throwing a hand haphazardly towards the alert button. 'I'm going to help you, Eth, I promise.'

He began searching frantically for the tools he needed to extubate, but things were set up differently in Darwin and Cal knew he was panicking. He knew he needed someone to help with suction and he knew Ethan probably needed extra sedation. How long ago had he pressed the alert button? He knew many of the staff were occupied in the ED but there had to be somebody to help in Darwin.

'Oh god, Eth, _please_ stop choking.' Cal knew it was useless begging this of his brother, but he was losing him. He'd been a doctor long enough to know how long Ethan had left without help. He was desperate.

Finding a draw full of the tools he needed, he grabbed a glove and shoved it over his good hand. 'Okay,' he whispered, throwing one last despairing glance towards the doors. 'Okay, little brother, here goes nothing.'

He peeled the tape off Ethan's mouth, despairing inwardly at the amount of pain Ethan was clearly in even though he wasn't fully conscious yet. Blocking it out and carefully tipping his brother's head back, Cal picked up the laryngoscope.

'Dr Knight!' Cal flinched, but didn't dare look up from what he was doing. 'Step away from the patient.'

A gaggle of nurses approached him, but he wasn't about to let them distract him. 'It's okay; I've got this.'

'You most certainly do not,' Connie replied. 'Step away, Dr Knight. Or I will personally see to it that you are _both_ out of a job by 9am.'

'Cal,' the calm, gravelly voice of Charlie Fairhead backed Connie up. He stepped round the side of the bed and, with one hand on Cal's shoulder, slowly reached out and took hold of the laryngoscope. 'Let us work on him.'

Cal grit his teeth. As he was brought back down to earth by his seniors, he was suddenly made aware again of the distress Ethan was suffering. He hadn't realised how much he had blocked out the sounds of the machines wailing at him. Charlie balanced the laryngoscope still as Cal abruptly let go and backed away from the bed.

'Wait for me outside,' Connie instructed. 'Dr Knight, _outside._ '

Cal blindly made his way to the door, feeling the bile rise in his throat. What had he _done_? He was trying to extubate his unconscious brother by himself with a broken hand and lack of suction. _Of course_ he knew this wasn't going to go well.

* * *

It didn't matter how much he and his brother had gone through; Ethan knew they would always be there for each other when they needed it.

So where was Cal, now?

His voice had disappeared, replaced with an alien but faintly familiar hum of voices and machines. And while Ethan was not particularly spiritual or superstitious, he could have sworn he felt his brother leave his presence. Had he panicked? Had he given up? Was Ethan too far gone?

Something felt strange about his face, like his muscles were heavier than normal. He tried to open his mouth and ask where Cal was but the words wouldn't translate to movement. Maybe he wasn't fully awake yet.

Ethan had always wondered what the space between life and death would be like. What his patients were seeing just before he shocked them back to life. When the minibus crashed, he couldn't remember anything between being freed from the vehicle and waking up to Cal's impassioned speech. Was this how it felt to be stuck between life and death? Was this limbo? Ethan didn't know. All he knew was that he hated it, and he wanted out.

Suddenly the hand around his throat loosened. Everything adjusted to its rightful position. Ethan suddenly decided that _this_ must be limbo. He could even see the light this time. How positively cliché. There was a light and everything.

* * *

'Cal,' Charlie closed the door softly behind him as he addressed the distressed younger man.

Cal lifted his head from his hands lethargically; the last few days were catching up with him. 'Charlie,' he replied, clearing his throat and standing up. 'What's happened?'

'He's awake,' Charlie said cautiously, holding both hands up in an attempt to calm Cal's excitement. 'But he's groggy. He hasn't said anything yet. Mr Self is on his way in to assess him.'

'Can I see him?' Cal's voice hitched in his throat as he tried to peer over Charlie's almost protective posture.

'Cal,' Charlie warned. 'Do you think you should calm down first?'

'Charlie, please,' Cal snapped, more aggressively than he had intended. 'I know how to act in front of my own brother.'

Charlie sighed and relented, sidestepping to allow Cal through the doors. Cal barely noticed the nurses huddled round Mrs Beauchamp as he came to a stop next to Ethan's bedside. The bed had been hoisted up so Ethan was sitting further upright, but his brother didn't look comfortable, positioned awkwardly with his arms by his side. An oxygen tube was fed around his ears and up his nose, but Ethan didn't seem very calm. He wasn't making any noise but there was a faint sense of panic etched into his face.

The older man looked into the younger's face, searching for clear emotion, but it didn't seem like there was any. Charlie was right; he was groggy. He was probably in shock.

'Hey,' Cal breathed out, laying his hand gently atop Ethan's. 'Hey, little brother. Welcome back.'

Ethan's eyes continued their strange forward stare and his hand twitched under Cal's. Cal swallowed the lump in his throat and took Ethan's hand in his own, bending slightly and trying to catch his brother's eye line.

'Ethan?' he asked, rubbing his thumb against Ethan's hand, careful not to dislodge the IV. 'It's alright, mate, I'm here. Talk to me.'

Ethan's eyes began flitting around in their sockets and he tried to take in smaller amounts of air. Cal felt like the whole room was suddenly filled with just the sound of Ethan's hurried breathing.

'Ethan,' Cal repeated, perching on the edge of the bed and noticing immediately when Ethan didn't shift to make extra room for him. 'Ethan, can you squeeze my hand?' When he didn't respond, Cal's face tightened. 'Don't make me call you Nibbles in front of all these pretty nurses,' he tried to joke, but it did nothing to satiate either of the brothers' nerves.

'Cal,' he heard, but it felt like the voice was in the distance. 'Dr Knight.'

'Eth,' Cal pronounced firmly, keeping a tight grip on his brother's hand. 'Squeeze my hand.'

Ethan's jaw stuck out and his brow furrowed like he was concentrating. Cal felt a nail scratch faintly at the skin of his hand, but it was by no means a squeeze. He looked down at it and then back up at Ethan's face. 'Try again,' he prompted, trying not to make his panic obvious.

But when Ethan's eyes finally swivelled to meet Cal's, there were clearly tears shining there. And when he opened his mouth as if he was ready to speak, no sound followed.

* * *

 **... I've had this planned from the start but I didn't realise how hard it would be to write! If you have time to review, I really appreciate it! Thank you guys. Next chapter up some time in the next couple days :D**


	9. Conflicted

'How could this have happened?!' Cal demanded as he and Connie left Ethan's room.

'Cal—' Charlie began, but Cal was on the warpath.

'What even _is_ happening? Is he paralysed? Well, he can't be paralysed, because he moved his hand, so it's not a spinal thing. So _what happened_? Why can't he talk? Why doesn't he have any grip? Why can't –'

'Cal!' Charlie grabbed the younger man by his shoulders, seeking to calm his tirade.

' _No,_ Charlie! This—this isn't something you can just _talk_ away! I need answers. _Why_ can't he talk to me?' Cal tried to shake Charlie's hands off his arms but his attempts were futile – or deliberate.

'Dr Knight –'

' _For God's sake, please_ stop calling me _Dr Knight,_ ' Cal burst out, forgetting momentarily that he was now facing his boss. He finally weakly pushed away from Charlie and ran his hands roughly down his face. 'What kind of _doctor_ am I anyway if I can't even get my own brother to talk?' He thought he'd said this quietly but it was clear his company had heard him.

There was silence while Cal steadied his breathing and the blood pulsing through his veins calmed.

'Cal,' Connie finally said softly. 'I can't tell you why Ethan has been affected like this. Mr Self is on his way up here now. He's going to run some tests and see what's going on. It might be psychological. Ethan has gone through a very serious trauma; it would distress anyone.'

'But it might physiological,' Cal replied, his voice almost childlike had it not been for the language he was using. 'It might be neurological, right? He might never talk again?'

'Let's not jump to any conclusions, alright?' Charlie intervened.

Cal dropped into one of the chairs lined up against the wall, his head falling into his hands. 'Was it me?' he asked weakly, his voice cracking. Looking up at Connie and Charlie, he could feel like his face pursing as he fought back tears. 'Was it because I didn't get to him in time?'

Charlie sat down next to Cal, twisting his body to face him. 'Cal, you did everything you could. Nobody could have done any more for him than you did.' Cal turned his head towards Charlie, his eyes stinging from where he'd rubbed them. 'Right now, all you can do is be there for him. He needs you. He needs you to be his big brother.'

Cal knew Charlie was right. He wanted to be Ethan's big brother. But he couldn't shake the feeling that somehow he could have prevented this. He couldn't shake the guilt. How would Ethan react if he knew that Cal had left him in the water for over ten minutes, because he hadn't been watching enough to see him go in?

He subconsciously tried to ignore the spinning thoughts in his brain and focused his attention to where it needed to be. 'Where's Mr Self?'

'He'll be here any minute. Why don't you go sit with Ethan until he gets here, hm?' She didn't like it, but Connie had definitely allowed her professional side to back down a bit.

Cal nodded and rose to his feet, running a hand through his tousled and slightly greasy hair and taking in a huge gulp of air.

'Oh, and Cal?' Connie spoke as he made his way to Ethan's room. 'I would appreciate it if you didn't perform any more unsolicited procedures on your brother.'

Even through the trauma Cal had just experienced, he managed to crack a small smile. 'Yes, Mrs Beauchamp,' he replied, pushing his way into his brother's room.

He sat with Ethan for over ten minutes before Mr Self made his grand entrance. Ethan's eyes were closed the whole time, but Cal knew better than to believe he was sleeping. He had learned that through experience. So he sat quietly, on the green couch, legs crossed, waiting. He watched for any movements, and the ends of his mouth twitched upwards when he saw Ethan's feet moving under the covers. Maybe this wasn't forever. Maybe Ethan just needed time.

'Alright,' Mr Self announced as he entered the room with what Cal could only assume was a smug flourish. Ethan's eyes shot open. 'Ethan. How are we doing?'

Cal frowned but bit back his sarcasm. He knew Ethan would only be more upset if he started conflict. But he also needed someone to fight for him. Ethan had _always_ needed someone to fight for him. And that someone was Cal.

'Okay, so I want you to blink once for _yes_ and twice for _no_. Is that alright?'

Cal straightened his back, pulled himself from his thoughts and focused as Ethan blinked once.

'Perfect. Ethan, can you understand everything I'm saying to you right now?'

One blink. For a second, Cal prayed for him not to blink again. The idea of Ethan not being able to understand what he was hearing was unfathomable. He felt the smile on his face before he realised he was so relieved.

'That's great news. Your name is Doctor Ethan Hardy, correct?' There was a slight emphasis on _Doctor_ , Cal noticed.

Cal pursed his lips and waited for the blink, his smile becoming a little brighter when he saw it. These were simple questions, but Ethan was understanding them, and that's all he needed.

'And you're a doctor in the Emergency Department?'

One blink.

'Can you tell me which hospital you work for, Ethan?'

One blink. But then another.

Cal's smile dropped.

'Come on, Eth,' Cal nudged his brother gently. 'You know which hospital we work for.'

Mr Self glanced at Cal. 'Do you _know_ which hospital you work for, Ethan?'

One blink.

'But you can't say it?'

One blink.

'Wh—' Cal swallowed and looked up at the consultant. 'What does that mean?'

Mr Self spared Cal a small smile but concentrated on Ethan. 'Alright. Ethan, I'm going to arrange to take you for an MRI scan. Is that okay with you?'

One blink.

'Okay, I'll go arrange that now. Dr Knight, can I speak to you outside?'

Cal nodded and reached briefly for Ethan's hand before following Mr Self out of the room. He found himself biting at his thumbnail as he waited for his superior to begin speaking. Cal was not one to admit when he was inferior, but when so much relied on this man, his confidence was shaken. He briefly wondered why he hadn't trained to be a neurosurgeon, because that would have been very useful right now. But the confident side of Cal still lingered, reminding him quickly of his need for action – his need to be a superhero.

'Dr Knight?'

How long had Mr Self been talking? Cal needed more sleep.

'Sorry, yes,' he replied, chewing on the edge of his thumbnail. 'You were talking about, the, um, the…'

'The MRI,' Mr Self prompted, raising his eyebrows.

'Of course,' Cal rolled his eyes, showcasing his best persuasive, all-knowing shrug. 'The MRI...' God, he was out of practice.

'Dr Knight, do you know what I really hate?' Cal shook his head. 'Stupid people. I hate stupid people. But do you know what I hate even more?' Cal raised one eyebrow. 'When people who are clearly _not_ stupid are not listening to what I am telling them.'

Cal's chest sagged as his teeth tore off his thumbnail down to a stub. He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand, feeling like he'd just been given detention.

'Cal, go home,' Charlie's hand fell heavily on his shoulder.

Cal hadn't been home since the day he and Ethan had left for work. 'I can't,' he spoke softly. 'I have to be here for him.'

He heard a sigh and looked toward Mr Self expectantly. 'I'll be running tests on him for the next few hours, at least. All you'll be doing here is waiting.' His eyes softened as much as he allowed them to. 'Go home, Dr Knight. You're no use to him in this state anyway.'

Cal's eyes flicked briefly between Mr Self, Charlie, Mrs Beauchamp and the door his brother sat behind. He debated inwardly, but as Charlie handed him his phone, wallet and keys, he nodded. 'Okay,' he relented. 'Will you, um, will you call me, if you find anything?'

'Of course,' Mr Self nodded curtly, turning immediately to the paperwork on the desk behind him.

Cal allowed Charlie to lead him out of the ward, feeling a strange mix of loneliness and freedom as he walked out the doors. A mix of dread and guilt. He ignored Charlie asking if he was okay to drive.

He made his way out of the hospital and snaked through the car park trying to remember where Ethan had parked the car. He couldn't help but feel the sense of relief grow as he got further and further away from the hospital.

He found the car, unlocking it and sitting inside. He had to push the chair back to make room for the difference between his and Ethan's legs. Clutching the steering wheel, he stared up at the hospital. This was the last chance he had to go back to his brother.

He turned the key and shifted the gearstick.

He needed a beer.

* * *

 **Okay, firstly, can we talk about how mad I am at Cal right now!? Today's episode broke my lil heart for Ethan.**

 **However, it did spur me to reevaluate exactly how the character would react in this kind of situation and personally I think he probably would reach a breaking point. So this is it. This is Cal's breaking point. He's probably going to smash stuff next chapter.**

 **I know it's 2am and y'all probably aren't awake, but when you do wake up, please review!**

 **Inspiration has well and truly struck so hopefully the next chapter will be coming soon. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	10. Haunted

**Hello! I know it's been a while again, and for that, I am super sorry. A combination of final year of uni, work, socialising and a lack of inspiration because of the shitty Cal/Ethan storyline right now has contributed to my non-update.**

 **I hope you like this chapter, though! It focuses a lot on how the whole situation has affected Cal. I like to call this chapter, 'Cal's Downfall'. Please review if you have the time! Any suggestions are also always greatly appreciated.**

 **Hope you enjoy! x**

* * *

Ethan had resolved to keep his eyes closed. The constant movement and lights and clearly unnecessary prodding required little attention on his part, and he couldn't stand the pity that radiated from those around him. Plus, everything was a little fuzzy. Not so fuzzy that he couldn't see the way the doctors and nurses, even those who knew him well, hesitated before they came near him. Not _so_ fuzzy that he couldn't see the way people huddled in a group near the door and whispered about him. No. He could see all that. It was all just much easier with his eyes shut.

He wondered where Cal had disappeared to. He hoped he was sleeping, or eating, or talking to someone, but the more rational side of him inevitably took over and he knew he should be concerned about Cal's whereabouts. Cal didn't deal with situations like this very well.

Situations like this. Had they ever confronted a situation like this before? Ethan couldn't remember the last time he had felt so lost. What was happening to him? He was awake. He was lucid. He knew who everyone was and where he was and what people were saying to him. But there was a barrier of sorts, a threshold, between him and the outside world. Like he was the circus lion and everyone else were just paying visitors.

Great. Ethan rolled his eyes behind his closed lids. Now he was making metaphors. Maybe he really was going mad. He began to list in his head the chronological steps of an appendectomy. It was one of the first things he'd read in the first ever medical textbook he'd picked up. What if he began to forget? He couldn't forget. Medicine was his life. How could he help people if he couldn't speak? He needed to get better, and forget this whole thing ever happened.

And like everything else in his life, he knew that wouldn't come easily.

* * *

There was a loud crack as Cal dropped another bottle atop the four empties. The glass lay broken in the box Ethan had carefully named 'Recycling', under which he had written a list of what was allowed. Underneath, there was another Sharpie message: 'Cal – no broken glass'.

Cal scoffed as he reread the message. He remembered mocking Ethan when he wrote it, promising to check the list every time he threw something away, and never actually reading it at all. Tonight, he had scanned it over ten times.

He grabbed another bottle from the box on the kitchen counter, noting that there were only three bottles left. He paused, his body swaying as he worked hard to figure out where the alcohol had gone. After a few failed equations and seriously considering the possibility that someone was in his house and stealing his beer, Cal laughed out loud. He'd drunk three in the car, _of course._

He pictured Ethan's face upon finding out that Cal had literally been drinking and driving, simultaneously. He would say, _'Caleb, what is wrong with you?'_ or, perhaps, _'Caleb, what were you thinking? You could have killed someone!'_ Ethan would have probably thrown the first punch; he always did, especially when Cal goaded him first.

But there was no one to brawl with. Cal grabbed another bottle from the box, cracked open both and stumbled to the living room to drink them. It was the first time he'd set foot in there since the brothers had left for work the day it happened. He flung himself onto the cushions, Ethan's voice grumbling, _'Caleb, I_ just _tidied in here.'_

Everywhere he looked, he was there.

* * *

'Lofty,' the gravelly voice of Charlie Fairhead spoke from behind the nurse. 'Have you heard from Cal?'

Lofty turned, his brow furrowing. 'Not since last night—' he winced. 'Is he in trouble? About…?'

'No,' Charlie reassured, holding his hands up. 'He was supposed to go home to get some sleep while Ethan had his MRI scan, but he's not answering his phone and no one's heard from him for hours. Which is odd, considering he was—'

'What about Ethan?' Lofty had always been a little slow on the uptake, but even he was a little ashamed that Max, eavesdropping, had asked this question before him.

'He woke up,' Charlie said slowly, tilting his head. 'Didn't Cal tell you?'

'No,' Lofty shook his head, 'I haven't heard a thing from him since he went Muhammad Ali on that guy downstairs—'

'I saw him,' Max interrupted. The two men looked towards him. 'Yeah, he was… he was leaving. He looked pretty confused. I bumped into him outside, but he didn't say anything; he just… went straight to his car.'

Charlie sighed. 'I think he needs someone with him right now. I don't trust him not to do something stupid. I'd go find him but Mrs Beauchamp needs me upstairs—'

'I'll go,' Lofty interjected. 'I'll bring him back here.'

'Yeah, and I can go with,' Max nodded. 'The patients can wheel themselves for half an hour.'

'Thanks, guys,' Charlie half-smiled at the pair. 'When you find him, take him up to Mr Self. He said he needs to talk to him about Ethan's scan.'

* * *

'Oh, _piss_ off!' Cal killed the phone mid-ring as he yanked the cord out of the wall on his way to his bedroom. In his left hand swung a bottle of vodka, one he had stashed behind the cereal after throwing a party Ethan hadn't approved of. Stumbling, he fell absently against his brother's bedroom door, forehead pressed against the panels. Pushing down on the handle, he allowed the weight of his body to open the door, falling into the room and onto the bed directly in front of him.

'Shit,' he hissed as the vodka seeped into the bed sheets. _What a waste,_ he thought as he brought the bottle back to his mouth.

Turning over, with difficulty, something on Ethan's bedside table caught his eye. Cal dropped the bottle on the floor, upright, of course, and picked the item up. Ethan's spare glasses. He knew his brother always kept them there, 'in case of emergency'. Cal rolled his eyes. _Classic Nibbles. Always prepared._

He swung his body heavily off the bed, grabbed the vodka, and stared in the mirror. Haphazardly he pushed the glasses onto his own face, although he could tell he was stretching them. He took another swig from the bottle, smiled lopsidedly.

'Caleb, don't sit _there_ ,' he mocked at himself in the mirror. 'Caleb, don't eat _that_. Caleb, one of these days,' he pointed the bottle at the mirror, losing his footing, 'you're going to get me _fired._ ' He cocked his head, suddenly noticing the dampness on his face. 'Caleb, you ruin _everything_.'

And with a reverberating explosion of glass, Cal threw the bottle at the mirror, letting the shards fall at his feet. With a surge of emotion, he shoved Ethan's belongings off of his bedside table, pushed it over, reached under the mattress and tipped the whole thing upwards. Ethan's perfectly placed cologne bottle, standing mirror, and box of "mementoes" met the same fate. The chest itself also went down. Eventually, having destroyed everything in sight, Cal dropped to his knees, the same way he had in the ED, only this time he fell on his own destruction. There was no pain, though; right now, Cal could only feel utter desperation.

But his rampage wasn't finished yet. He pulled himself up, crunching glass as he left the room and headed for the kitchen. But before he could do any more than kicking the door open so hard something definitely cracked, there was a knock from the front door. Cal's head jolted toward the noise, frozen. _They'll go away._ But seconds later, the doorbell rang. Then, the letterbox opened. Someone said his name. Twice.

He grabbed one of the last beer bottles and cracked it open. He straightened his shirt, blew out a shaky breath and blinked furiously to mask his emotions. He actually thought he was doing pretty well until the shocked faces of his friends greeted him at his door.

'Hey, guys,' Cal forced out, trying to subdue his slurs.

'I didn't know you wore glasses,' Lofty replied, pointing at Cal's face. He'd forgotten he still had them on.

'He doesn't,' Max said roughly, pushing through the door, past Cal, and grabbing the glasses off his face.

'Hey!' Cal protested. 'Give those back!'

'Hey, hey,' Lofty grabbed his friend by the shoulders and turned him to face him. 'Are you—are you _drunk_?' he exclaimed incredulously, scrunching the nose at the smell. He grasped Cal harder by the shoulders. 'Cal, are you seriously drunk?'

'Of course he is, Lofty,' Max replied. 'Look at him; he's a mess.'

'Max, I swear to God, if you don't give me those back, I'll—'

'Oh, calm down, Cal. What am I going to do with them?'

'Max, if you—!'

'Max, just give them back.'

Cal felt comforted as he pocketed the glasses. He allowed Lofty to guide him to his own living room, but snatched the bottle away from both men when they tried to take it from him. He fell like a dead weight onto the couch, the beer fizzing and spilling onto his shirt.

'Cal, come on, mate,' Lofty stood above him. Cal was sure he'd never been that tall. 'Give us the beer. Ethan wouldn't want this.'

'You don't know what he wants,' Cal spat out, taking gulps of the alcohol. 'Ha,' he pronounced. 'No one does.' His voice raised a couple of octaves. 'Because he can't fucking talk, can he?'

Lofty and Max exchanged glances.

'You know, I always kind of wished he'd stop talking,' Cal continued, his words strung together clumsily. 'And now he has. Maybe it's _my_ fault.'

'I…' Lofty knew he was going to say the wrong thing, but he needed to fill the silence. 'I thought he'd woken up?'

'Oh, oh, yeah, he woke up,' Cal replied, swallowing more of the beer. 'No thanks to me, of course. But he can't get the words… from _here,_ ' the bottle bumped against Cal's skull, 'to _here_ ,' he finished, swigging again.

'You know, I… I always thought it'd be me. Not him. Not… my little man; my baby bro,' Cal knew he wasn't making any sense aloud, but his drunken stupor convinced him that his friends understood. 'My _better half_ ,' he slurred, appearing calmer. Then he raised the bottle at Lofty's face, flashing a lopsided, toothy grin. 'Cheers to _that, mate,_ ' he articulated, but his voice trembled. ' _Cheers…_ to the better brother,' he mumbled, arm buoyed.

Lofty grabbed the bottle out of Cal's outstretched hand and watched as the man went to drink it anyway, visibly confused when nothing met his lips. 'You're a mess, mate. Come on, get up. Drink some water.'

'Can I go see him?' Cal's voice was suddenly childlike.

'I… don't think that's a good idea.'

'Why?'

Lofty rubbed his fingers against his forehead. 'Max, a little help?'

Max shrugged. 'I think he should go.'

'See?!'

'Max, are you mad?' Lofty rebutted, gesturing with the confiscated beer bottle. 'Look at him; he can barely _stand_.'

'If you won't take me,' Cal heaved his body from the couch, stumbling into another person before reaching for where he vaguely remembered throwing the keys. 'I'll drive myself.'

' _Whoa_ , whoa, whoa, hold up, Schumacher,' Max pulled the keys from Cal's grasp and pushed himself between him and the exit. 'Lofty, see what I mean? If we don't take him, he's gonna find another way there.'

'I'm still _here_ ,' Cal protested, his body swaying forward.

'Yeah, barely,' Max scoffed, widening his eyes at Lofty. 'Mate. Come on. He probably needs to go to hospital anyway.'

'Oh, whatever,' Lofty reluctantly backed down, still unsure if he was doing the right thing.

With one on each side, the two men bundled Cal into the backseat of Lofty's car. Neither discovered the carnage Cal had left in Ethan's bedroom. That would have to wait until another day.

* * *

 **So the boys will be reunited next chapter. Yay!**

 **I have to ask, do you guys have a preference as to whether Ethan's condition is physical or mental? I'm still on the fence about the whole thing. Let me know :)**

 **I hope to update this soon! But given my track record, it's probably best I make no promises. I'm going to really, really try to update this in the next week! Until then, lots of love x**


	11. Betrayal

**Thank you for all your support and suggestions! They were pivotal in this chapter.**

* * *

Cal gingerly opened one eye, then immediately closed it again. Everything was bright, the kind of bright that actually felt like it burned. He rolled his neck against the uneven cushion under his head, letting a rough groan escape him. This wasn't his bed. Oh god, whose bed was he in now?

'Morning.'

No. No, that wasn't a girl's voice.

Cal reopened his left eye. 'Max?' He massaged his face with his good hand, rubbing his knuckles into his forehead. 'What the…? Where am I?'

'You mean you don't recognise that lovely smell?'

Cal felt his forehead crease, but took the plunge and opened both eyes, taking in a reluctant breath. Immediately, he regretted it. 'The hospital,' he said, groaning. He noticed the line in his arm, turning to Max just as Lofty came through the curtain. 'Oh, the whole gang's here,' he rolled his eyes, lifting himself onto his elbows. 'Anyone going to explain...?'

'Is that any way to treat the friends who dragged your sorry arse to hospital and broke a million rules to treat your mild alcohol poisoning?' Max answered, to which Cal cringed.

'Alcohol poisoning?' he repeated meekly, looking to Lofty.

'I actually guessed more likely mild to severe alcohol poisoning. But whatever helps you feel better,' Lofty shrugged.

'Oh my god,' Cal fell back onto the bed, fractured memories of the night before rushing chaotically around his brain. 'Does Mrs Beauchamp…?'

'Why do we think we broke a million rules?'

'You're definitely heading for your final strike, Cal. Seriously, you gotta cut it out.'

'Yeah, yeah, I know, Lofty, I get it, I'm a screw up,' Cal took in a deep breath and let it out again, his gaze settling on a dark spot on the ceiling. 'Thanks for… you know.'

'What are mates for, eh?' Max chuckled. 'Anyway, we'll leave you to it. I'm sure there's a stain I have to clean somewhere.'

Cal noticeably gagged. Max always knew how to push people's buttons. The porter smirked, crooning, 'Beer before liquor, never been sicker' as he left the cubicle.

'Mate, I really don't think it would have mattered what order he drank them in,' Lofty called after him. 'Remember, Cal, no one knows you're here. We've covered for you all night so, seriously, please –'

'Alright, Lofty, I'm going!' Cal interrupted, his hangover purely adding to his already irritable state. How much had he drunk that even a drip couldn't cure him?

'Sorry,' the nurse replied, and Cal immediately felt guilty. 'Oh, by the way, Charlie said to go see Mr Self. Something about Ethan's MRI.'

Cal sat bolt upright, his head complaining even more. 'What?!' he pulled the drip out of his arm and swung his legs over the bed. 'What did he say? Did they find anything?'

'No,' Lofty replied. 'Sorry, I didn't realise… Charlie didn't say anything; just that he needed to see you.'

Cal fought through the dizziness that greeted him as he stood up, and mentally pushed back the bile rising in his throat. He thanked Lofty and allowed him to sneak him through the curtains and into the bustling mass of patients.

He felt awful. It wasn't just the pounding hangover that was nagging at him; the guilt was tying his stomach into knots. He kept asking himself how he could have been so irresponsible. Of all the times Ethan had ever needed him, Cal was sure that now was a pretty important one. And, knowing his little brother as well as he did, he knew that Ethan wouldn't forget Cal's absence in a hurry.

'Dr Knight,' Mr Self greeted as Cal tripped on his own feet onto the ward.

He could hear the judgement in his voice and thought it best to stay quiet and wait for Mr Self to continue. But the consultant didn't spare him a single glance as he shuffled his papers on the desk and turned away from him. After a momentary bemused pause, Cal stumbled after him, attempting, and failing, to grab his attention. When Guy stopped, Cal stopped.

'Do you need something, Dr Knight?'

'W-well—' Cal shrugged, coughing out a pained laugh. 'I, um—' He was clearly taking too long to talk as Mr Self had already begun to walk away from him again. 'Ethan,' was all he could manage, and he internally scolded himself for being so ridiculous. Why was Mr Self making Cal spell out what he needed? It's not like he would be here to visit anyone else.

Mr Self turned calmly. 'Yes. What about him?'

Cal's face twisted. 'S…Sorry, I don't—I don't know what your _problem_ with me is—'

'My problem, Dr Knight,' Mr Self interjected, stepped forward, 'is that it's taken you… sixteen hours… to get here? Smelling like that?' Cal was angry that he was being reprimanded like a child by this man he barely knew, but for some reason, he couldn't defend himself. 'You asked me to call you when there was news. And there was. And I did. So where exactly were you when your phone was ringing off the hook last night?'

'Well,' Cal crossed his arms tight over his body. 'I-I'm here now.'

'Oh,' Mr Self raised his eyes sarcastically. 'Well, it's a shame we already took your brother to surgery, isn't it?'

He might as well have dealt Cal a swift punch in the gut. He'd missed Ethan's surgery. And for what? A pity binge? God, he was an awful big brother.

'Mr Self,' Connie Beauchamp's voice sliced through the icy atmosphere smoothly. 'What's going on here? Dr Knight, are you alright?'

Cal had never seen Mrs Beauchamp so concerned; at least, not for him, anyway. But the wind had been knocked out of him and he couldn't bring himself to answer her.

'Take a seat, Cal,' she said gently, laying a hand on his arm and leading him to wall of benches. 'Excuse me.'

Cal felt like he couldn't breathe properly. Ethan had probably been scared to death going back to surgery. He wouldn't have been able to protest or tell anyone how scared he was. He would have wondered where his older brother had gone, and it wouldn't have taken him long to figure out where Cal had got to. And the worst part—God, it was definitely the worst part—was that Cal knew, had their positions had been switched, Ethan would never have left Cal's side.

'Can't you see he's struggling?' he heard Mrs Beauchamp speak. 'Guy, tell me you wouldn't feel similar if this was Zosia.'

Cal lifted himself from the seat and padded to the doors of Ethan's room, shoving his hands his pockets. He frowned as his hand hit something sharp, pulling out Ethan's glasses. His brain raced with more broken images of the night before being pieced together, but it got too much for him and he pocketed the glasses again. Peering through the glass hesitantly, he breathed a huge sigh of relief as he noticed Ethan was awake, sporting a large white dressing around his head, which Cal knew Ethan was sure to be hating. His head was turned toward the window, so he was undisturbed by Cal's spying. But the thing that sparked Cal's attention were Ethan's hands: they were in his lap, his fingers interlocking.

Cal spun around as Connie and Guy finished their conversation and joined him near the doors. 'He can move,' Cal exclaimed incredulously. He knew he was smiling stupidly, his hangover briefly cured, his incapability at being a good brother momentarily forgotten.

'Dr Knight,' Mr Self's tone immediately brought him back down to earth. 'Yes, Ethan has regained a significant amount of his motor function. When we took him for the MRI, it revealed the true extent of his injuries: Ethan suffered a brain contusion. Now, as it happens, the comatose state that Ethan was in recently, we think, helped to alleviate some of the intracranial pressure caused by the trauma. But given the results of the MRI, we took him to surgery to take a closer look and to try to relieve some more of the pressure.'

'Okay,' Cal replied quietly, turning over his shoulder to glance at Ethan.

'The surgery was successful, which is why Ethan has regained most of his mobility.'

'But?' Cal asked expectantly, turning back round to face Mr Self.

The consultant hesitated. 'Your brother is still unable to vocally communicate.'

'Cal,' Mrs Beauchamp reached out for the young doctor's arms as he went to push his hands through his hair. 'Cal, this is not the end, okay? It's still uncertain as to why Ethan is having trouble speaking. It could get better as his body recovers.'

Cal scoffed at her, but the desperation in his eyes was enough to convince Connie he was listening. 'I suggest you go and see your brother. Be patient with him. You know as well as I that Ethan is a very well respected doctor in this hospital, but he is currently dependent on his colleagues for everything, and that is a condition I would wish on no doctor, especially one with Ethan's talent. He's going to need you very much right now.'

Cal was biting his lip hard enough to break skin, but he nodded. 'Was it the water?' he asked towards Mr Self, who was awkwardly hanging back out of the conversation. 'Is it because of how long he was in the water?'

'Tissue damage caused by oxygen deprivation does tend to show up on MRI scans, as I'm sure you know, but not always. We've put him on steroids and we're going to run more tests to see if we can get to the root cause.'

'Alright?' Connie reassured, her hands still resting on Cal's arms to calm him. 'Go to your brother, Cal.'

Cal turned back to the doors, taking a deep breath before looking through the glass. What he hadn't expected was Ethan's face looking back at him, from the bed, suddenly childlike. It was the face he used to pull after Cal sent him to school in clothes he had said everyone was wearing: the face of distrust, of unreserved betrayal.

It was now or not at all. Cal could either prove himself, or leave. There was no in between, no middle ground, no half-hearted. There was certainly no room for pride.

Cal swallowed the lump in his throat and pushed the doors open, prompting Ethan to turn his head away.

'Nibbles, please.' He moved closer, shuffling onto the edge of the bed. 'Please look at me.'

Stoically, Ethan didn't move. Of course he didn't.

'Okay, well, you're not going anywhere, so I guess I might as well just talk.' Cal spared a glance at his brother to see if he reacted to his teasing, but was met with ice. 'Okay. Did you hear everything they said out there? I mean, they probably already explained it to you, right?'

Cal wasn't sure why he waited, for he knew he had a very slim chance of an answer, but he still sat quietly, patiently, until he was sure Ethan would not reply.

'I'll take that as a yes. But it's okay, because you're going to get better. Your body just needs some more time to heal and you'll be back saving lives in no time. And I'll be there with you, the whole time. Even when you don't want me there, I'll be there, I promise.'

This statement elicited from Ethan a noise so quiet Cal thought for a second he had imagined it. But his head still jerked towards his brother, eager to hear even the slightest sound of his voice. 'Eth?'

Cal clambered off the bed and round to the other side, but as soon as he got there, Ethan struggled to once again turn his head away.

'Eth,' Cal repeated, laying a hand on one side of his brother's face. He pulled gently to make Ethan look at him but his eyes were squeezed shut and his face scrunched as he tried to escape Cal's grip. 'Please don't shut me out. I mean it. I'm going to be here for you whatever happens.'

This time, Cal witnessed Ethan's reaction first-hand. It was a sob of desperation, of sheer misery, that escaped him as Cal proclaimed his being there for him. It only took a moment for Cal to understand, and his heart felt like it fell through the floor.

'You don't… believe me, do you?' he asked quietly, his hand tightening around Ethan's face. All he wanted to do was show him that he was going to be a good brother, but his track record was doing all the speaking.

Ethan's eyes opened, just a little, and the brothers locked gazes. There was so much he wanted to say, so many questions he couldn't ask. He settled on a weak shake of his head, and this was enough for the tears that had built in Cal's eyes over the last few minutes to spill over.

'Please, Ethan, you have to—' At any other time, Cal would have been ashamed at the whimpering tone of his voice. 'Last night, it was… a stupid mistake. Everything just got on top of me, and I know that's no excuse, and I know you've been going through far worse than me, but I couldn't—I didn't know what to do anymore. I was desperate and I am so, so sorry. If I'd known—' Cal cut himself off choking on his own emotion, finding his hand gripping tighter.

He screwed up his eyes and took a long intake of breath, before perching on the side of the bed again. He loosened his grip but did not move his hand. 'I know I've been an awful brother to you sometimes. And I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but, please, Ethan, we can get through this together. I know we can.'

Ethan's jaw had locked in his bid to hide his emotions. He hated feeling so vulnerable; he was unable to leave a situation if it got too much for him. He felt shackled to the bed. But he had to admit: hearing Cal actually put aside his pride and throw himself on his mercy settled whatever score Ethan had set up in his mind. It made him feel less exposed.

'God,' Cal breathed out, tipping his head to the ceiling. 'Ethan, you _died._ You _died._ On the table, in front of me. Even the defib couldn't restart your heart. I—' he paused to swallow the lump in his throat. 'I was alone. Everyone I have ever loved is gone except you. And for a moment, you were gone as well, and I have never, ever felt pain like it. Please, Ethan, you're my little brother.' Cal's face was fraught with emotion as he finally turned back to Ethan. 'I don't know how to live without you.'

Ethan's valiant efforts at not crying were futile. The worst part about it was that he couldn't try to comfort Cal, or even apologise, and that made him cry even harder. But when Cal grasped his face with both hands, he still tried to roll his neck and escape; why was he so _weak_?

'No, no, Ethan, Ethan, look at me,' Cal held his brother's face firmly in front of his with both hands. ' _Look at me._ I am _here._ I am _not_ leaving. I will help you talk again, I _promise._ ' Cal tightened his grip slightly, feeling Ethan relax. 'I promise you that.'

He leant forward and pressed a kiss to the side of his brother's head, careful to avoid the dressing. Then, leaning back, he smiled unevenly and wiped Ethan's eyes with his thumbs. 'I love you, you know that, right?'

Ethan's mouth pursed in a childlike way, and he nodded.

'Good,' Cal smiled, relieved and finally feeling safe to take his hands away. 'Oh!' he exclaimed, reaching into his pocket. 'I picked these up for you.' Ethan didn't need to know how the glasses had really come into Cal's possession. He placed them on his brother's face, watched as Ethan adjusted, and grinned. 'Oh yeah, much better, mate.'

But while Cal realised that this was the first time he'd smiled, really smiled, since the day it happened, he couldn't help but worry about what he'd told Ethan. One of the first things they teach you in med school is not to make promises. So why had he thought it was a good idea to make a promise to his brother? What if Ethan never talked again?

* * *

 **I think this might have been the longest chapter. Yay!**

 **So I added some nice Connie in here because I've always really liked how Connie is quite protective of the brothers, like with their mum and with the car crash and Ethan's HIV scare. So I thought I'd carry that on here as I like to stay true to the characters for the most part.**

 **Also, Cal's hand on Ethan's face… I imagined this the way Cal comforted Emilie after their accident. I actually wrote that in the chapter at first, then suddenly realised that Emilie doesn't exist in this story lol. So that happened.**

 **Also! I have a new story coming soon. I have been working on it for weeks and I have almost the whole treatment set out. It's based around Ethan's Huntington's and his reaction to it... but he maybe doesn't deal with it in the most rational way. I'm very excited for it.**

 **Please review if you have time! I love to know what you guys think. Thank you 3**


	12. Trapped

**Thank you so much for your reviews, follows and favourites! Sorry this took a little longer than I anticipated to get out. :)**

* * *

 _He was screaming for help but nobody was coming. He was surrounded by dark, murky water and he couldn't move his arms or his legs properly. How was he able to scream if he was in water? He could hear himself saying his brother's name, and screaming—begging—for help. But Cal was nowhere to be found—probably off playing superhero—to a pretty girl—or something—or—Ethan couldn't get his thoughts straight. The less he flailed his arms, the more energy he seemed to lose. Nothing was making sense. What if—no—Cal wouldn't leave him to die._

 _But he wasn't coming. He had surely heard Ethan's screams by now. What if he had decided that he was done? He was done—and what if this was just an easy way of absolving himself of brotherly duties?_

 _Ethan's fractured thoughts began to slow. What was the point? Nobody was coming, so why delay the inevitable? Why pretend he had a chance—?_

 _A face appeared above the shadowy waters. Ethan didn't need to look closely to know the identity of saviour. He knew he'd come._

 _But the face leaned away almost as quickly as it had arrived, disappearing from view. Ethan could have even sworn the face had smiled before it left. Cal was gone. He wasn't going to save him—not this time. Not anymore._

 _Ethan tried to yell. Nothing. He was dying. And Cal was going to let it happen._

 _No—please—don't leave—wait—Cal, please—_

'Morning, Nibbles!'

Ethan inhaled sharply. Praising himself for being a quick thinker, he turned slowly towards his brother, using his balled hands to wipe away the wetness on his face as he feigned tiredness. He smiled unevenly at Cal, praying that he was fooling him.

'You alright?'

Ethan nodded, stretching the smile further.

Cal's eyebrows creased slightly but he accepted his brother's half-hearted mood. It was normal for him to have mood swings; Cal knew that.

He placed two takeaway cups on the bedside table, leaning to adjust Ethan's bed and then to help his brother into a sitting position.

'You… probably don't need me for that anymore, do you?' he asked guiltily, laughing at Ethan's shy shake of his head. 'Good point. Not needed. Got it.'

He pulled his backpack off and swung to lean it on the bed. 'Okay, so I had a brainwave last night.' When Ethan winced, Cal's face dropped. 'Oh, little brother, you have no faith in me,' he smirked, and reached in the bag. 'Post-Its!' he exclaimed.

His brother didn't react, and Cal paused. 'Post-Its, mate,' he pressed. 'So you can communicate better. Look, I made some already.'

Cal peeled off the first one and handed it to Ethan.

 _Tea._

Ethan looked at it for a moment, then held it towards Cal expectantly.

'You want some now?' Cal asked, reaching for the cup.

Ethan shook his head. He pointed towards the cups on the table, then showed the note again and shook his head once more, this time with more vigour.

Cal paused and raised an eyebrow, his shoulders slacking. 'Eth, you know you're not allowed coffee.' Ethan's chest slumped, and Cal tried to stop himself but he couldn't help but chuckle. 'God, you are difficult sometimes.'

'Anyway,' he continued, 'I've written some phrases on them which you might want to use to talk to people. Well, mainly me, obviously, since I am clearly the most important person in your life.'

Cal pushed Ethan's tray around in front of him. As Ethan stuck _Tea_ to the table, he peeled off a few more: _Food. Sleep. Painkillers. Water. Glasses. Laptop._

'Look, I brought this one, just in case you want to get all emotional with me,' Cal smiled, sticking a note that read _Love you_ on it.

Ethan looked up at him and rolled his eyes. 'Okay, okay, don't worry,' Cal held his hands up, chuckling. 'I also brought a back-up,' he said, sticking another one. This one read _Shut up_.

The corners of Ethan's mouth curled up, though Cal could tell it was reluctant. Then he raised his hand and pointed a finger at the note.

 _Shut up._

Cal grinned. 'Yeah, I thought you might say that.'

He shuffled onto the bed and pulled out a Sharpie. 'Okay, what are we thinking? What else is essential to Ethan's living arrangements?'

He paused, the pen hovering over the paper. Then he relaxed, turned his head to face his brother, and held out the pen, sliding the paper over. 'Why don't you write it?'

Ethan's smile was enough to assure Cal he was doing the right thing. When Ethan pointed to _Glasses_ , Cal nodded and grabbed them for him without a word.

Shakily, Ethan pushed the pen to the paper. He was having a hard time grasping the pen as well as he knew he could, but he persevered, using his other hand as a paperweight. But his concentration was short-lived, as he suddenly realised he'd applied too much pressure and the expanding black spot on the paper prevented him from writing anything. He groaned.

'That's okay,' Cal reassured, grabbing the Post-Its and ripping a couple off. 'We've got loads. Try again,' he prompted, placing it back in front of Ethan.

The process was slow and rather trial-and-error, but eventually, Ethan had written his first Post-It. He peeled it off and stuck it down, on the side of the tray closest to Cal. Then he pointed.

Cal, focused on Ethan's face, only followed his hand when Ethan flicked his eyes towards the tray. Confused, Cal glanced down.

 _Thank you._

He breathed out a small laugh, a smile etched into his features. Then he wrapped an arm around Ethan's shoulders, pulled him close and kissed the side of his head. Then he, too, pointed: _Love you._

'He's busy right now,' they heard the distinctive voice of Mrs Beauchamp ring out from behind the door. 'Is this really necessary?'

Both men's heads turned, Cal's towards the door, Ethan's towards his big brother.

'This is a very serious allegation, Dr Beauchamp.'

'It's Mrs Beauchamp to you. And I understand that, officer, but they are under my supervision while they are in this hospital, and I say that this can be done at a different time.'

'With all due respect, _Mrs_ Beauchamp, it is not Caleb Knight who is currently in your care.'

There was a silence, which Cal assumed to be Connie accepting defeat. _Or_ , he thought to himself, _she's killed him. One look from her could definitely do the trick._

'Cal,' Connie's smile was thin as she entered the room. 'Can I see you outside for a second?'

Cal turned to Ethan, who had paled significantly in the last couple of minutes. It took the utmost energy to smile at him, but Cal knew he needed to. 'Hey, it's okay. It's fine. It'll be fine. I'll be back, okay?' he nodded, face stretched, and shuffled off the bed. 'Just, um… keep writing the Post-Its, yeah?'

Ethan watched as his brother turned and followed Mrs Beauchamp from the room. He pushed himself further up the bed to gain a better view through the door's window, craning his neck and ignoring the pain in his head.

Cal was greeted by two uniformed officers as he stepped outside the room. 'Can I help you, officers?' he asked politely, but his mind was racing wildly with all the possible reasons for their wanting to talk to him.

'Caleb Knight?'

He nodded.

'We need you to come down the station. We have a few questions to ask you.'

Cal's eyebrows knitted together, and he shuffled his weight from one foot to the other. 'What's this about?'

'We can talk about that down the station,' the taller officer replied. 'If you would just come with us—'

'No, what is this about? Is this about my brother? Because he's not—'

'There's been an allegation made against you,' the officer interrupted. 'By a… Trevor Matthews?'

'Don't know him,' Cal replied, shaking his head. 'What am I supposed to have done to him? Was he a patient?' he asked, directing the last question at his boss.

Connie quietly shook her head. 'Cal… Trevor Matthews; he's—'

'Mr Matthews has accused you of assault, Dr Knight.'

Cal's head shot towards the officer. 'Assault?!' he repeated. 'Who could I have _possibly_ —?' Cal's speech slowed, and he inhaled deeply. 'Trevor. Matthews,' he pronounced, glancing toward Connie again for guidance. She blinked solemnly and nodded. 'The guy who put my brother in a hospital bed? The guy… who may have _muted_ my brother for life?'

'Sir, if you could just calm down,' the officer said, holding his hands up. 'If you won't come with us willingly—'

'Did he tell you that?' Cal replied, his voice raising. He barely registered the touch of Connie's hand on his arm. 'Did he tell you how he almost _killed_ my brother?'

'Dr Knight, I must insist that you stay calm.'

Before Cal could respond, Connie had jerked his arm towards her. 'Cal,' she warned, her eyes piercing. 'Think of your brother. Do _not_ make this any harder, right? Go with them—' Connie paused as Cal rolled his eyes. ' _Go with them_ , and explain. I know Ethan hasn't asked you to, but it's time. Okay? It's time.'

Cal ran his tongue over his bottom lip, shaking his head. He ran a hand through his hair and grabbed a fistful in a desperate bid to control his emotions. Then he turned to the police officers. 'Am I being arrested?' he asked quietly.

Cal could have sworn he saw a glimmer of guilt flash across the officer's face. But he nodded: 'Yes.'

Cal suddenly let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding in. It was as if the world he was finally managing to build back up was crumbling again, only this time it really was his fault. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. 'Can I talk to my brother first?'

The officers exchanged glances between themselves, then looked at Connie, then back to Cal. 'You have one minute,' the second officer replied, breaking her silence for the first time.

Cal gave a quick few awkward nods and turned back into Ethan's room, and closed the door behind him. He was greeted by his brother, his legs swung over the side of the bed, ready to stand up.

'Hey, hey, no,' Cal cautioned, moving swiftly forward to prevent him from getting up. 'You don't need to get up, mate. You know you shouldn't be standing without anyone here.'

Ethan looked up, his gaze flicking between Cal's eyes, searching for answers. He turned and pointed at a newly written Post-It: _What did you do?_

Cal stuck his jaw out: he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He laid his hands on Ethan's shoulders and brought their faces close together.

'I don't have time to explain,' he whispered, 'but I-I will. Okay? And, um, Nibbles, I just need you to know—I love you, okay? A-and I'm sorry. I never—' he let his head drop towards his chest. 'I never wanted this to happen. And I understand—if—' he inhaled deeply and brought his head up to look at his brother again. '—if you hate me. Or you don't want me to come back. I am just _so_ sorry.'

Ethan rolled Cal's hands off his shoulders. Cal, disheartened, began to straighten up, but froze when Ethan turned back to the Post-Its, peeled one off and held it out expectantly.

Cal looked at the paper and then up at his brother. He couldn't even begin to think what awful things Ethan might be trying to say to him, phrases like _Move out_ and _I never want to see you again_ spinning around his brain.

But he took the Post-It anyway and turned it over. On it, a little smudged and letters a bit shaky, were the words _Love you_. Cal raised his head in shock, and Ethan smiled a tiny, uneven smile at him. Mirroring Ethan's face, Cal held the note a moment longer before pocketing it.

But before Cal could react anymore, as he reached out to hug his brother, as Ethan rose unsteadily to his feet, the door opened. 'We have no more time, Dr Knight.'

'Wait—' Cal barely managed to get another word out before the officers approached him and handcuffed him.

'Caleb Knight, I am arresting you on suspicion of one count of aggravated assault. You do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Come on,' the officer prompted, pulling Cal from the room.

'It'll be okay, Eth.' Cal tried to smile as he was pulled away, but the sadness on Ethan's face was too much to ignore. 'I love you.'

The last thing he saw was Ethan's head nodding, his eyebrows creased, and him removing his glasses to wipe his sleeve across his eyes.

God, what had he done?

* * *

 **RIGHT.**

 **We have so much to talk about!**

 **Firstly: LAST WEEK'S EPISODE was _so_ good, right!? Our brothers are back to loving each other again and I am so bloody happy about it. I may have watched Ethan's Be More Cal moment multiple times haha. Ugh. So good. **

**Secondly: has everyone heard the horrible news? If they kill one of the brothers off I honestly don't know how I'll handle it tbh. I've heard multiple rumours that it might be Cal though :'( I'm trying not to think about it.**

 **Thirdly: v sorry for the wait on this and on the other promised story. Thing is, I have to write a novella for university, publish it and sell it. I am thinking of using the treatment for my new story on here as the basis for the university story, which is preventing me uploading anything on here yet. I'm not sure how successful it will be, but after it's published I may reconsider putting the new story back on here. Just thought I'd let y'all know! Also if you want to buy the book let me know... ;) It'll only be about £3!**

 **As always, so grateful for your comments and suggestions. Let me know what you think :)**


	13. Patience

**Okay. Cards on the table. I am absolutely distraught at Cal's death. From a viewer's perspective, of course, but also from a writer's. I really, truly believe that there was so much more to explore in the brothers' relationship, and honestly would have probably been much happier had Cal's character made the decision to leave Holby (as I know Rich Windsor apparently initiated his departure), and an exploration into how Ethan felt when his brother deliberately 'abandoned' him to go somewhere else. I also, personally, do not feel that the ending gave their incredible journey enough justice. I thought the episode was very well done, acting incredible, etc., but I just felt their story had so much more to give.**

 **And to be honest, that's why I've found this chapter very, very difficult to write. I want to continue this story and will try my best, but I'm finding it hard while being so un-enamoured with how they wrote Cal out.**

 ** _However,_** **I am here, I have written this chapter for you, and I hope you enjoy it. Thankfully, Cal doesn't have to be dead in this universe, so, you know, he's still adorable here.**

 **P.S. I wrote most of this this evening and literally read through once and uploaded, so please forgive any errors. ALSO details of my published book are at the end of the chapter!**

* * *

'Empty your pockets.'

Cal had been treated like a criminal from the moment he was led into the police station. He was handed over to someone he supposed was senior, though he couldn't help but notice his shirt was untucked on one side. If someone made eye contact with him, it was for an uncomfortable number of seconds and was served with ice-cold suspicion. But then, Cal mused, he _was_ a criminal. He _had_ broken the law. _If only they knew_ , he thought wearily as he was patted down.

'Hey, no, wait—I need that!' he said, reaching for the Post-It they pulled from his belongings. 'Please. You can let me keep that, right?'

'You'll get it back after we've asked you a few questions.' The officer raised a hand to warn Cal and peered at the note. 'Girlfriend?' he asked with a slight sneer.

Cal locked his jaw. 'Brother,' he replied. 'He's mute.'

The officer's eyes raised to meet his for the first time. His eyebrows softened from the stern frown he had worn since the moment the two men were introduced. 'It'll be kept with the rest of your belongings. It's safe,' he said, nodding and handing the Post-It over to the officer behind the counter. 'Come on.'

Cal followed the man through the grey and white corridors of the police station, head bowed to avoid confrontation. _This is what Ethan would do_ , he thought to himself. _Don't do anything Ethan wouldn't do._

'Dr Knight,' a woman he'd not seen before acknowledged as he dragged himself into the interview room. 'Detective Inspector Alice Kray.'

Ethan would have said nothing, so Cal said nothing. Cal felt his eyes wander as he ruminated on the idea that his brother may never speak again.

DI Kray motioned towards a chair, although he was already being herded to it by the officer who had his Post-It.

'I must inform you that this interview is being recorded. For the tape, this interview is being conducted at Holby Police Station in Bristol, the day is…'

Cal's chest sagged as he faltered into the chair. His eyes roamed the room aimlessly, lethargically, and his mind deviated to think about how everything had gone so wrong. How had he ended up here? How, in only a matter of weeks, had he and his brother's lives been so spectacularly turned upside down?

'Can you state your full name for the tape, please?'

He heard himself answer but it didn't feel like he was speaking. It was as if his head was underwater and he could hear people talking just above the surface. Had Ethan heard people talking as he was drowning? Had he known that people were just metres away, and no one was helping?

'And your date of birth?'

'12 February 1984.' Funny. In his head, he'd said 28 November 1986. But that wasn't right.

'Thank you.'

He was picking at a piece of skin on his thumbnail. He'd chewed at it on the way over, almost hoping it would bleed, but it just stung.

'So, Dr Knight, can you tell us how you know Trevor Matthews?'

Ethan would have answered, so Cal answered.

* * *

There had been many times Ethan had waited for Cal. In fact, he felt like he spent his whole life waiting on his brother. Waiting for him to come downstairs, waiting for him to do his own laundry, to tidy anything up, to give back anything and everything he'd ever swiped from Ethan's room. Waiting for him to do the right thing—waiting, hoping, that he'd step up.

He always did.

But then, Ethan found himself waiting for him to mess up. He often wasn't waiting long for that, ironically, but then the cycle began again.

But, without a doubt, this wait had been the longest of his life. It outplayed even the time he waited for Cal to save him from that upturned car, or to notice that he was drowning. This three hours were the most agonising he'd ever experienced.

His fingers rested on the Post-It Cal had made that dictated a 'pain meter', with a 1—10 scale. Was this the ten? Was this that unimaginable pain Ethan never even began to consider he might feel one day?

 _No_ , he scolded himself. This was not pain. This was waiting. He'd done it before, and he could do it now.

'Ethan?'

He knew it wasn't Cal, but he found his head jerking up anyway. His eye twinged as he was reminded of the wound on his head.

Connie stepped forward, handing Ethan the button that administered morphine gently. 'How are you feeling?'

Ethan nodded. What else could he do?

'Do you want me to get you anything?'

He appreciated that she spoke to him, not at him. She spoke just like she always had: to the point, but softly if necessary. It was nice to have someone other than Cal treat him like a human being. But further than that, her approach was almost better than Cal's. She was treating him as if everything was normal.

Ethan shook his head. He pointed at the Post-Its that littered the tray in front of him, pleading silently with her to be patient while he found the one he needed. Pulling out a green one, he handed it to her.

 _Cal?_

Connie's shoulders dropped. 'I don't know, Ethan. I haven't heard anything. I'm sorry.'

She handed the Post-It back, watching as Ethan forlornly stared at the note and pasted it to the top of his tray table, over the pain scale.

'Look, Ethan—' She dithered over whether to perch, or to stand, or to pace. '—I thought, while you wait, you could use a distraction.'

Ethan's eyebrows creased. He didn't like the sound of that. What could Connie Beauchamp possibly have arranged as a distraction?

'I've spoken to Dr Singh in Psych and he's happy to speak to you today, right now, if you'd like.'

Oh. That kind of distraction.

* * *

'No, that's not how it happened!' Cal thumped his hands down on the table, not violently enough to cause a scene. No, Ethan wouldn't do that. 'You're twisting my words!'

'So, you're saying that Mr Matthews provoked you? He provoked you, and you threw the first punch?'

'Yes— _no._ He didn't say anything. He—' Cal probably should have asked for a lawyer. He was regretting not asking for a lawyer. 'He didn't have a chance.'

'So you just attacked him?'

' _No!_ ' Cal's hands flew to his face and he dragged them down, exhausted. 'The man punched my brother, and almost killed him. _He left him to die_ , and he would have if I hadn't seen what was happening. _He left him_ —' Cal rested his elbows on the table, massaging circles into his temples and trying hard to contain his emotions. 'When I asked him where Ethan was, he said he didn't know. When he had _clearly_ thrown him into the water—'

'Did you see him?'

'What?'

'Did you see him?' DI Kray raised her eyebrows. 'Did you see Mr Matthews assault your brother?'

'N—' Cal's head reeled back, swallowing as he realised what was happening. 'No, but—'

'Then you can't be sure that it happened.'

 _'What?!'_ Cal threw his body back against the chair, interlocking his fingers and tensing them around his head. _'You didn't need to see—'_

DI Kray raised a hand to silence him. Ethan would have shut up, so Cal shut up. 'Interview suspended at 15:38. Take some time to cool down, Dr Knight,' she said, standing. 'We'll be back in ten minutes.'

* * *

'Dr Hardy—nice to meet you.' Dr Singh smiled as Connie wheeled Ethan into the room. He held out a hand, and Ethan gingerly met it. 'Let's get straight to it, shall we?' he asked, a simple way of telling Connie to leave as he took a seat opposite Ethan. Ethan felt her hand squeeze his shoulder as she left.

Dr Singh was a tall man, maybe around 6ft. At first glance, he seemed to be dressed extremely professionally, but as Ethan examined him, he noticed the peek of a _Simpsons_ tie, a glance of mismatched socks, and surfboard cufflinks. After a few seconds, it was all a little overwhelming.

'Do you mind if call you Ethan? Dr this, Dr that. You can call me Arjun.'

No, thank you. Dr Singh was just fine. But Ethan found himself nodding anyway.

'Fantastic. So, Ethan,' Dr Singh leant forward. Oh God, here it was. The moment Ethan had been dreading. 'What's your favourite colour?'

What?

Ethan's eyes flitted from side to side. He'd heard the rumours about Dr Singh. But he'd also heard from some that he was brilliant. Ethan wasn't convinced.

'No?' Dr Singh tilted his head. 'Okay. Favourite animal?'

Oh boy. Ethan was wrong. The last three hours were not the longest of his life. This session was going to be.

* * *

 **Thought I'd bring a little light-heartedness back into the story. I'm excited for the therapy sessions.**

 **SO, as I mentioned last chapter (which you'll be forgiven for forgetting, as it was mooonths ago): I've written a book! And published it.**

 **I'm sure you've probably had enough brother deaths this year, but I'd be so, so happy if you read my book! It's been really well-received so far so I hope you'll enjoy it. If you search 'dead man walking c l rocks' on Amazon, you'll find it. I'd post a link but I'm pretty sure don't allow it.**

 **I promise promise promise I'll try to update this story ASAP, but I'm working in London for two weeks starting tomorrow so I doubt it will be before that's finished.**

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review if you have the time.**


	14. Losing Control

**Hello! Hope you enjoy this chapter! It was pretty intense to write, so hopefully that comes across for you.**

* * *

'Come _on_ , Ethan—I'm fourteen years old, I'm screaming in pain, I don't know where I am and it's clear that I have a lacerated femoral artery— _what do you say_?"

Ethan's toes curled up inside his slippers, his ankles contorting as he fought for words. Fingernail marks had formed on his palms and beads of sweat clung to his hairline. He grit his teeth and forced out a breath, but it was wordless. It was always wordless.

He found himself spitting pathetically as his jaw finally gave up on him. His head dropped, his chest heaving. He was never going to speak again.

Dr Singh retreated from his position behind Ethan's head and exhaled deeply.

'You want me to go harder? Because I can go harder.' Dr Singh scraped his office chair closer to face his patient. 'You were _so_ close this time, Ethan.'

No, he wasn't. Sure, he'd improved, but Ethan felt nowhere close to speaking again. He imagined that this was what it felt like to be blind to the point that all you can see is dark shadows: he knew something was there, but wasn't sure exactly how to process what it was.

Ethan's teeth chattered unevenly as he tried to ask Dr Singh to try again. The therapist understood, wasting no time in bringing their faces closer together.

' _Oh my god—what are you doing?! Don't touch my son; you're not a trained doctor!'_

 _Yes, I am. I am a trained doctor and I am a_ good _doctor._

He felt hot, frustrated tears begin to fall down his humiliated face. It only made him angrier. How could he _ever_ be a good doctor again if he couldn't form words?

' _Talk to me! Tell me who you are! Tell me what you're doing to my son!'_

Ethan's hands slammed down on the armrests of the wheelchair, his heightened anxiety taking the best of him. An almost inhuman sound escaped him, a noise Ethan had only ever heard in dying patients and his nightmares, and he almost ripped the armrests from their metal frames. Maybe he would have succeeded if he'd had the strength.

'That's _good_ , Ethan!' Dr Singh praised, breaking character. 'Bring _that_ anger to the game! _Fight_ for your voice!'

If Ethan hadn't been so terribly dependent on Dr Singh, he would have rolled his eyes at his phraseology. He understood now the stark range of reviews his colleagues had given the therapist. But he was sobbing, so uncontrollably that no sound was leaving his body. His face was frozen in a grimace, eyes screwed up, jaw locked.

Dr Singh stepped backwards, crouched in front of Ethan and rested his hands on his knees. 'I think we should stop for today. We're done, Ethan. We're done.'

But the younger of the men shook his head once, jerking his head to the right. Once he had forced his body to uncurl and summoned the strength to look Dr Singh in the eye, he lifted one defiant finger.

 _One more time._

Dr Singh's head tipped as he inhaled silently. He had been waiting for days for Ethan to be ready to fight—and now that day had come, he was questioning how far he could go.

'Alright.' He nodded slowly, pursing his lips. 'Alright… I'm… an elderly gentleman. Query advanced dementia. I'm… belligerent. I need you to calm me down.'

Ethan blinked, gathering his thoughts. He swallowed the painful lump in his throat.

' _I don't want you treating me. You're a_ child. _You're_ stupid, idiotic, foolish. _You can't treat me—you're not old enough! Someone get me a_ real _doctor!'_

Ethan was sure he could feel his blood boiling. The two men were locked in a fierce stare, so close that Ethan could feel spray on his cheek when Dr Singh's character sneered at him.

 _I am not stupid. I am_ not _foolish._

' _I will not be treated by an amateur! This man is an amateur! This_ boy _is an amateur!'_

Fists curled once more, Ethan's body began rocking as he prepared himself to fight. He scrunched his eyes shut, his brow furrowed, summoning up as much courage as he could. He thought about all the times he'd been let down, humiliated, cornered.

'Come on, Ethan!' Dr Singh prodded, before switching back to character. _'You're a_ failure _! Who would ever want to be treated by a doctor like—?'_

Ethan's eyes flung open. Dr Singh had been torn from his position in front of Ethan, and was now sprawled against the far wall. Fistfuls of his purple shirt were caught in red, straining fists.

'Who the _hell_ do you think you are, speaking to him like that?!'

Cal was back.

* * *

It had only been eight days, but the first thing Cal noticed as he was directed out of prison was how fresh the air was. It felt like the beginning of spring, though spring had definitely already passed. The door clanged shut behind him, an offensive signal of his early departure, and he stumbled clumsily a couple of steps forward.

' _This man—not just a man, but a_ doctor _, no less—abused his position of authority when he performed an unprovoked attack on my client. Intuition alone is no excuse for the appalling behaviour of Caleb Knight on the day in question.'_

Cal's head shuddered as if he were physically shaking the voices of the Magistrates' Court out of his head. He focused on the scene in front of him, squinting at the bright skies, and barrelled towards the old car that was waiting for him.

'Cal,' Charlie greeted him, his arms opening automatically. The pure confusion on Cal's face was enough for Charlie to act as his father figure. 'Are you feeling okay?'

' _Your Worships, I implore—before you cast judgement on the actions of my client—that you understand the enormous pressure that he was under at the time of the incident in question.'_

Cal fell into Charlie's embrace without words, if not only because he felt as if he would vomit if he opened his mouth. In relative comparison, Cal's stint in prison had been uneventful, but that did not mean he had enjoyed it. He had faced it with the same philosophy he faced most things with these days: Ethan would not cause trouble, so Cal did not cause trouble.

' _As for my learned friend's implication that it was mere intuition that triggered my client's reaction, I think we can all agree that there was more at play here. The fact alone that my learned friend's client could not be_ bothered _to attend the hearing today speaks volumes of his character.'_

'Thank you—' Cal leaned back from his friend. '—for picking me up. You didn't have to.'

'Don't worry about that,' Charlie discounted, waving a hand between them. 'I'm heading into work now, anyway. But Cal—are you really alright?'

Cal swallowed harshly, forcing the corners of his mouth up. 'Of course, Charlie.' He began to climb into the passenger seat that Charlie had opened for him. 'Aren't I always?'

' _I hold Dr Knight in some of the highest regards that I hold my team, and I assure Your Worships that this alone is not enough for him to lose his medical practitioner status with me. I can also assure you that I have fired people for less._ That _is enough to speak of Dr Knight's character.'_

The car ride was pretty silent. Cal rolled down the window and sucked in the cold air, and while it made the hairs on Charlie's arms stand on end, he was not going to complain. The man had gone through more in a few weeks than most would experience in a lifetime, and was still breathing.

'Does Ethan know?'

Charlie did not let Cal see his surprise at his sudden outburst. He kept his eyes dead ahead and hands positioned firmly on the wheel. 'I haven't told him. I think he still thinks you get out next week.'

' _While we have considered this case in its entirety, the fact stands that you, Doctor Caleb Knight, acted in a way that was unsuitable to your surroundings, and illegal in law. For this incident alone, then, we are sentencing you to fourteen days in custody.'_

Cal nodded slowly as he assessed his next move. At any other time he would have probably waited in Ethan's bed or by his locker at work to scare him, but this was now, and now was not the time to be playing around. What if Ethan didn't want to see him? What if he was scared of him again?

Cal's hand rested atop his jeans pocket in which he had folded Ethan's Post-It. 'How is he?'

'He's doing okay,' Charlie answered, reminding himself to choose his words carefully. 'He looks forward to his speech therapy sessions. They seem useful to him.'

' _I've sent Ethan to some therapy sessions for his speech. From there we'll be able to gage his communication levels and maybe the cause of his difficulties.'_

' _Is he still staying at the hospital?'_

' _Yes. But when you get out, I think it might be time for you two to go home.'_

'Yeah, Mrs Beauchamp mentioned that when she visited me last week. Dr Singh, right?'

A small chuckle escaped the driver. 'Right. He's there as we speak. It seems to be helping.'

'Hmm.' Cal's eyebrows flicked up and down. 'We've all heard the rumours though.'

'Cal,' Charlie warned as he pulled into the ED's parking lot. 'If we all believed rumours I wouldn't feel nearly as safe bringing you here right now.'

Cal glanced at Charlie, silenced. His brow creased, he rolled up the window and climbed out the car. Every move he made he took care to keep it quiet. He kept his head down as Charlie took him into the hospital.

'So they let you out, did they?' he heard a voice tease as he entered the ED. This was not what he needed right now. 'Good behaviour, was it?'

He summoned up all the courage he had left to throw a grin at Max. 'You know me, mate. A little wink, dash of charm—they all fall for it in the end.'

Charlie exchanged a look with Jacob as they passed, both concerned for their friend's behaviour. But what could they do? Cal was… _Cal._ Cockiness was his game. Who were they to take that away from him?

'I'll see you later, Charlie. Thanks again,' Cal acknowledged as he made his toward the lift.

He prayed that nobody would get in with him, frantically knocking the buttons in the elevator as he entered. A woman tried to catch it as the doors closed, asking with her eyes for him to stop them, but he just stared straight forward, as if he hadn't seen her, his thumb robotically tapping the button for his floor. As soon as he was trapped, alone, in the capsule, he could feel his eyes pricking. He pushed a fist down his face, pressing it against his mouth, begging himself not to scream. But between floors he suddenly threw his fist out and smashed the STOP button, letting out the most primal yell. He was in too much anguish to spare a thought for anyone who heard it.

Then, as if it had never happened, he sniffed, cleared his throat, and calmly pressed the STOP button once more. He pursed his lips and rolled up his sleeves, and everybody who passed him as he left the lift were none the wiser.

As he approached Dr Singh's office, he could hear yelling. Though he couldn't make out the words, he found himself tripping over his own feet to approach the door. Peering through, he was confronted with an image that he was sure would never leave his memory.

His younger brother, rocking in his wheelchair, his gentle hands squeezed into fists, eyes scrunched, sobbing. And a man, Dr Singh, curved over him, threatening him, _screaming_ at him. It was too reminiscent of the times Cal had found Ethan as a child, as a teen, curled up beneath a person twice his size and half his compassion.

Neither of the men in the room had time to think before Cal had thundered through the door, thrown Dr Singh from his position in front of his brother and pinned him against the wall.

'Who the _hell_ do you think you are, speaking to him like that?!' he hollered, grabbing fistfuls of the man's sickening purple shirt. A loud and flamboyant tie danced in front of him as it tightened, and it only maddened him further.

Dr Singh said nothing. He didn't even try to defend himself. His hands curled around those of his attacker, but he did not fight back, even though Cal was sure he could have taken him. His eyes were locked on Ethan.

'Come on then!' Cal shoved the man against the wall again. 'Show me what a big man you really are!'

' _Caleb!'_

Cal froze. It couldn't be. There was no way. His grip loosened on Dr Singh, and his eyes flicked in the direction of his brother. His brother, who was now breathing like he'd just run a marathon; standing, barely, his arms and legs shaking violently as he supported himself against the wheelchair; staring straight into the eyes of his older brother.

His voice was scratchy, and had hitched sharply on the second syllable. It was not a pretty sound, not even close: in fact, had Cal not been so desperate to hear Ethan's voice for so long now, he may not have even noticed him speak.

But he had spoken, and that was enough.

* * *

 **I have already begun planning the next chapter so hopefully (I know I say this a lot) I can upload another chapter soon. I always have two more oneshot stories buzzing round in my noggin, so I might try creating those soon too.**

 **Please review! I love to know what you're thinking!**


	15. Pressure

**** SURPRISE. I _do_ have the ability to update quickly! ****

 _ **Guest:**_ **Thank you! Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 _ **CBloom2:**_ **Hopefully they can move on… let's see if I'm done with them yet lol. Enjoy!**

 _ **InfinityAndOne:**_ **I'm glad you liked Dr Singh's methods – I wasn't sure how well they would go down! I don't think I'll split them up again though – I like their dynamic too much. Thank you! Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 _ **Guest (2):**_ **Aw, thank you so much! That's so sweet that you've reread it – makes my heart burst! Hope you enjoy this update**

 _ **20BlueRoses:**_ **Thank you so much – and it's so lovely to know that you get so emotionally involved as it means I'm doing it right! Haha I agree – but let's be honest, that is definitely something Cal would do, isn't it lol. Hope this chapter is as emotional for you! :D**

 **Also,** _ **thank you so much**_ **to everyone who congratulated me on my book/even went so far as to buy a copy. After I posted the chapter a couple of copies were bought from Amazon so thank you if that was you! The reaction to it so far has been so overwhelming. Completely forgot to acknowledge that last chapter so I apologise for that! Thank you!**

 **I'll let you read now lol.**

* * *

From his pinned position against the wall, Dr Singh's feet suddenly made contact with the ground with a thump. As his attacker retreated, he regained his balance and tentatively approached the scene in front of him.

In the moments before he had released Dr Singh, Cal's body had reached peak pressure. His hands, though loosened, felt stiff; his feet could have been caught in blocks of concrete; his spine could have crystallised. But when time finally caught up with him, he found within himself a surge of energy to swoop towards his brother and support his trembling elbows.

'No, no, Ethan,' he whispered, trying to lower him back into the chair. 'Don't try to stand.'

Ethan meekly attempted to bat Cal's help away but Cal's persistence and Ethan's lack of energy rendered his endeavours useless. He relaxed into the chair, looking up at his brother through tear-logged eyelashes. He reached a shaking hand up to remove his glasses, but his brother's hands blocked his vision as the latter removed them for him and placed them in Ethan's lap. A thumb swiped across each eye, drying the tear streaks from his cheeks.

Unable to remove his hands from Ethan's face just yet, Cal's eyes flicked across his brother's face, waiting for him to speak again, to reassure him that he hadn't imagined it.

'You spoke,' he breathed. 'You did speak, didn't you?'

A tiny smile cracked over Ethan's tired and fraught face. He nodded, and with it followed a delayed, weak 'yes'.

'Oh, my god, Ethan.'

Relief rushing into his nerves, Cal threw his arms around Ethan's neck. The younger of the two, perpetually embarrassed but also _so_ comforted by his brother's presence, allowed him this one. In fact, he couldn't help but lean into the embrace, raising his exhausted arms to curl around Cal's torso. He even rested his head on Cal's shoulder, at once realising how much he had missed him in the midst of this unfamiliar chaos.

'Ethan.'

Cal's body stiffened in the embrace, but before Ethan's brain could engage, Cal had unwound himself gently and turned to face Dr Singh. In a panic, Ethan reached for his brother to prevent him from once again attacking his therapist, but his reactions were slow and he just caught the edge of Cal's hand.

It was enough. Cal's head twisted instantly back towards Ethan.

Multiple words flashed through Ethan's brain as he tried to get his message across with as few words as possible. But his head was spinning and thumping all at once, so he settled with 'Wait' and hoped his older brother understood.

'Ethan—' Cal's head jerked back and forth between his brother and Dr Singh. 'Ethan, he was _yelling_ at you.'

Ethan's eyes were pleading. 'Wait,' he repeated, inwardly angry that he couldn't muster up more explanation.

'If I may,' Dr Singh began, but he stepped back when Cal's head snapped angrily towards him. 'Caleb, I presume?' A single eyebrow raised on Cal's face, and Dr Singh knew already he was losing this battle. 'If I could just explain…'

'I'm listening,' Cal interrupted sharply, positioning his body protectively between Dr Singh and his brother.

'Your brother and I… we've been working together for a while now. We tried numerous techniques but nothing was helping to break through the barriers that are holding Ethan back. One session, I asked what he would do if he was asked to treat a patient right this very second, and… Ethan—' Dr Singh glanced beyond, to which Cal's body responded by covering Ethan further. '—Well, let's just say, Ethan got quite riled up.'

'That doesn't sound like him,' Cal replied stubbornly.

'I'm sure you of all people know how much stress Ethan has been under.'

Cal's eyes flicked down, and then behind him to where his brother met his gaze, begging him silently to listen. He licked his bottom lip and resumed listening to Dr Singh.

'Almost every patient I've ever treated has needed stimuli. It just happened that Ethan needed something to challenge him and his worth, especially his worth as a doctor. It was simply… roleplay, if you will.' Dr Singh glanced again at Ethan and this time Cal made no attempt to block him. 'Clearly, Ethan just needed a little extra push.'

'Why didn't you say any of this when I—well—' Cal gestured awkwardly at the wall.

'You didn't give me much of a chance.' Dr Singh chuckled, then stepped tentatively toward Ethan. 'I wondered if Caleb might be the straw that broke the camel's back, as it were. I believed in you, Ethan. Was it inadvisable while being throttled? Sure, probably. But you got there. I'm proud of you.'

The corner of Ethan's mouth twitched up. 'Tha—' His voice came out as barely a whisper and he rolled his eyes.

'Take your time,' Cal said, his body swaying forward instinctively.

Ethan took a small breath, licking his lips and moving his jaw. 'Thank you,' he finally clawed out.

Dr Singh nodded. 'You're most welcome. Obviously, this is just starting. I have high hopes, but I don't want you to think that I'm abandoning you now that you've made such great progress.' He turned to Cal, whose thumb was taking most of his anxiety as he chewed his hangnail. 'And now Caleb is back, maybe you two can work on it together.'

Cal nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly, yet couldn't help but notice the uneasiness etched into his brother's face. Maybe he didn't want Cal helping him? Maybe he trusted Dr Singh more than him?

Ethan had zoned out a little as Dr Singh spoke about abandoning him. Did that mean he had to go home? He was sick of his hospital room, for sure, but at least when he was there he had a reason not to see people. What if people judged him, pointed and stared when he passed? As Cal agreed enthusiastically to help Ethan, he wanted to be happy too. But he just knew he wasn't ready for the real world yet.

* * *

As Cal wheeled Ethan back to his room, no words were exchanged no matter how much he desperately wanted them to be. He wondered dimly if Ethan's capacity to speak would disappear if he didn't keep him talking.

Pushing him into the room and positioning himself ready to help Ethan, he was stunned when, with difficulty, his brother silently rose up and manoeuvred himself from chair to mattress.

'A b—bit better,' Ethan confirmed in response to Cal's bewildered stare. 'A bit.'

'Wow,' Cal found himself saying, unable to muster up much more than that. Had time been passing faster outside of his prison cell?

'So, y—' Ethan exhaled deeply, frustrated. Cal could sense he was a ticking time bomb. 'You're… back.'

Cal tried not to be in awe of Ethan's speech, but he knew his brother could sense his pride. 'Yeah,' he said as quickly as possible. 'Good behaviour,' he joked.

For a second, it was as if the last few months hadn't happened. Ethan opened his mouth to respond, cocked an eyebrow and then twitched his nose as if to say, 'Not a real thing'. For a second, the old Ethan was back, discrediting Cal's bullshit and making him feel loved all at once.

'I know it's not a real thing, Nibbles. Let me have this one.'

As Ethan smiled softly and rolled his eyes, Cal perched next to him on the bed. 'So since you can walk _and_ talk now—anything else you want to tell me? Can you fly too?'

Another eye roll. 'V—very funny, Cal.'

'I thought so.' Cal shrugged. 'It's… it's really good to talk to you again, Eth. I was… starting to think I'd never hear your voice again.'

Ethan let out a small, almost forced, laugh. 'Th—thought you m—might like it like that.'

'Don't be stupid,' Cal responded immediately, but laughed a little too. 'I'm serious, Ethan. I'm so happy that you're getting better.'

Ethan paused for a moment. Was he getting better? He didn't feel much better. He still felt trapped, exposed, lonely, all at once. He wanted to tell Cal all of this—but break his heart? Ethan couldn't do that.

Cal went to ask something, but a knock at the door broke them from their conversation.

'Ethan,' Mr Self greeted, almost acknowledging Cal's presence. 'I heard the news. Congratulations.'

Connie followed him in, but there was an air of vulnerability about her that made Cal uneasy. If Connie Beauchamp didn't look confident, he sure as hell didn't want to know what she knew.

'Ethan, I'm so happy for you. And you, too, Cal,' she said, smiling tightly. 'Welcome back.'

'Th—thanks.' 'Thank you, Mrs Beauchamp.'

'So, down to business—' Mr Self smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. 'Mrs Beauchamp and I were talking about letting you go home.'

Cal felt Ethan's arm tense next to his. 'Give him a chance; he's barely said three words.'

'Cal,' Connie warned in a tone Cal had definitely heard too much recently.

'As I was saying… Mrs Beauchamp and I are in agreement that it's time you start to find your feet again. We think you should go home soon.'

Cal's eye twitched. He knew what Mr Self was really saying. He meant that Ethan was taking up a bed. And he was damn sure that Ethan knew exactly what he meant as well.

'Right.' Ethan nodded gently. 'T—tomorrow?'

'No,' Connie jumped in, but Cal caught the side-eye that Mr Self threw at her. 'How about a few days, hmm? Friday?'

'Or Thursday, if that works,' Mr Self footnoted.

'It doesn't,' Cal retorted, and the two were soon locked in a headstrong staring contest.

'Cal,' Ethan muttered softly. 'S—stop.'

As much as he didn't want to, Cal recoiled. The smug pride that radiated from Mr Self made it extremely difficult, but one glance at his younger brother's heartbroken face brought him down to earth.

'Take a few hours to think about it, Ethan. There's no pressure,' Connie said, but there was. Cal knew Ethan was feeling the pressure because he looked ready to cry at any moment.

He stood, ushering them away and holding the door open for them. 'We will. Thank you, guys. See you later, bye.'

Their mutterings were silenced as Cal shut the door and leant his back against it, as if he could protect Ethan from the world with just his own body as a barricade. 'God, I hate that guy.'

'I know,' Ethan whispered. 'Obvious.'

Cal pushed his body from the door and resumed his position next to Ethan. 'Don't listen to him; you can leave whenever you like.'

Ethan's head turned up at Cal, and it was like they were children again, sitting on the top step as their parents argued. 'H—he's right, though. I sh—' He swallowed painfully, eyebrows creasing. 'I should leave.'

Cal opened his mouth to argue, but he knew there was no point. He settled for wrapping an arm around his little brother's slumped shoulders and pulling him close. He felt an overhanging sense of shame: that he couldn't do more, that he couldn't hide Ethan away from everyone forever, that he couldn't make him better or speed up time.

Ethan tried to feel safe in that moment, in the knowledge that his brother had kept his promise and was still here. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't ready. He needed more time. He locked his jaw and nestled further into Cal's shoulder to let the semi-safety last as long as possible. It didn't help. It didn't make the feeling go away.

It didn't matter whether he was ready for the real world; the real world was clearly not waiting around for him.

* * *

 **This was kind of a filler chapter but it brings me nicely to the next stage of the story: Ethan adjusting to his new life/trying to regain his old one. And yes, crazily, I've started planning the next chapter. I don't know what's happened to me, but I'll take advantage of it while I can.**

 **Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! Let me know if you think I should torture Ethan a tiiiiiny bit more (psychologically, of course) or if you think I've done enough lol. I haven't really touched too much on psychological trauma yet apart from the nightmares. Any suggestions are always welcome! Hopefully the next chapter will be up in the next week!**


	16. Demons

_**tracys dream:**_ **Thank you! Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 _ **Casualtyfandom1986:**_ **Aw, thank you so much - I hope you enjoy the book! Hahaha, I love how much we're all determined to torture Ethan even though we love him so much. Enjoy the next instalment!**

 _ **Guest:**_ **Thank you! I'm glad you like it!**

 _ **20BlueRoses:**_ **Oh, you are so kind! Your comments never fail to make me smile. I love to know that you're picturing my writing so vividly – I feel the same about yours! Thank you! Stay tuned for a little more torture… and don't remind me! I'm still not over Cal. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 _ **InfinityAndOne:**_ **I'm glad you liked the last chapter! I'm sure I can torture Ethan just a teensy bit more for this story. And then all over again in another one, I'm sure! Thank you for your lovely comments – hope you enjoy this chapter.**

 _ **Mel:**_ **Thank you! Most people disagree with you on the torture side of things but… I'll see where it goes lol.**

 **Thank you everyone who read the last chapter; I can't tell you how happy it makes me that people are still interested in this story! I hope you all enjoy this instalment as well. :)**

* * *

 _He didn't know how he got there. He couldn't recall falling in. His limbs were heavy as lead, though he was floating. He could see perfectly, though the water was murky and he knew he didn't have his glasses._

 _He could feel somebody approaching, sort of swimming, sort of just… appearing. He couldn't see their face._

 _Something inside him was telling him to run—or swim, if he could. But he couldn't lift his arms or kick his legs. The person was coming closer—only it wasn't a person—more a shape—but it had a face—_

 _He tried to scream. No bubbles escaped. No sound escaped._

 _It was reaching for him now—saying his name—smothering him—_

'Ethan— _Ethan!_ '

There were hands on him, gripping his arms, shaking him.

The first thing Cal had noticed when Ethan awoke was his eyes, wide and frightened, staring but not looking, as if he wasn't really seeing Cal at all. Cal himself had only woken a few minutes before, rising before the sun, and had spent those moments scrolling through meaningless social feeds on his phone.

He'd heard shifting from the bed and had tilted his head upward from the sofa to greet his brother, but he found Ethan's head thrashing from side to side. He'd thrown his phone down, jumped up and hovered over him, his hands buoyed, unsure how to handle the situation. When Ethan used to have night terrors, he'd have woken himself up and come to Cal for comfort. But he was not waking, so in a panic-fuelled and sleep-deprived state, Cal grabbed Ethan's floundering arms and roused him.

He now understood why people said not to wake someone who is experiencing night terrors. The unadulterated fear that chalked his younger brother's face was as if someone had threatened to murder his family. He was awake, but not alert, trapped in a world just a touch too far from reality that Cal couldn't bring him back from it.

'Ethan,' he repeated, loosening his grip. 'It's okay. It's only me.'

Ethan's eyes, flitting about, slowly began to settle. He shuffled his body up the bed, peering around as if something was watching him. He untwisted his legs from the dishevelled bedsheets, and suddenly appeared to notice his brother.

His eyes flicked to Cal's hands, still resting on his arms, then up into Cal's face, wide with bemusement.

'You were having a nightmare,' Cal explained, but immediately felt dumb for pointing out the obvious. 'I thought you were fitting or something.'

Ethan shook his head intensely. 'No,' he finally spoke, pushing Cal's hands away. 'No, I wasn't.'

No matter how gently Ethan pushed him away, Cal couldn't help feeling a little hurt by his actions. He frowned, reeling his head back awkwardly. 'Ethan, you know you can't lie to me. What were you dreaming about?'

'No, Cal,' Ethan disregarded, moving to get off the bed.

Cal sidestepped in front of him. 'Why won't you tell me? I'm your brother; I want to help you. Was it about what happened? About—?'

'Please, Cal,' Ethan interrupted, staring Cal dead in the eye. 'P—please don't.'

'So it was, then,' Cal confirmed, tipping his head up and raising his eyebrows. 'How long?'

Ethan's stare dropped, defeated. He searched for words to say, but his head was still a bit foggy and Cal had begun talking again.

'Why didn't you tell me?' His voice sounded dejected, almost betrayed. 'I thought you trusted me.'

'I—' Ethan protested, but found himself choking on the words. 'Not a big deal.'

' _Not a big_ —of course it's a big deal, Ethan!' Cal couldn't help but raise his voice as he blocked his brother from moving again. 'Ethan, we need to talk about this.'

'No!' Ethan's voice, still unaccustomed to sudden bursts of emotion, hitched loudly in his throat. Cal's face crumbled, comparing Ethan's voice in his mind to that of a distressed child, so upset they began hiccupping.

Ethan took his chance and pushed past Cal weakly with his shoulder, heading for the bathroom.

'I have them too.'

Ethan stiffened, his back to Cal. He stared straight forward, trying to focus on anything his blurred vision would allow.

'Not as bad as yours, sure, but I have them. I do. When I was in—' Cal stopped, shook his head, though Ethan couldn't see him. 'I have them.'

Ethan's head turned first, locking eyes with his brother. His body followed, his movements heavy. 'Please, Cal,' he repeated, and Cal suddenly noticed the wetness on his face. 'Please. Just… don't.'

* * *

'Okay, are you sure this is a good idea? You've barely moved from the bed to the shower for weeks and now you want to walk through the whole damn hospital?'

Ethan rolled his eyes, though he admitted to himself that there was an edge of fondness to the action. He and his brother stood, the dreaded wheelchair between them.

'Come on, Ethan—this is stupid. No one is going to judge you for being in a wheelchair.'

No. Of course his friends wouldn't judge him for being in a wheelchair. But they would pity him, and that was more than enough.

'No wheelchair,' Ethan said defiantly, pushing it towards Cal. 'Th—that's final.'

Releasing an ' _oof'_ sound as the wheelchair made close contact with his lower body, Cal glowered at his younger brother. 'Well, I'm still taking it with us,' he countered stubbornly, folding it and lifting it onto the end of the bed with the rest of their belongings.

Neither brother had dared to mention Ethan's nightmares since the morning. Ethan hoped Cal would forget about it, although of course he knew that he wouldn't. And Cal hoped Ethan would open up about them soon, although he, too, knew that he wouldn't. It was the elephant in the room, and neither of them were approaching it.

A soft knock on the door broke them both from their separate trains of thought.

'Ready to go?' Charlie's eyes were on Ethan though he knew he was addressing both men.

Ethan nodded, but when he took a step forward, there was a noticeable wobble. Cal swooped forward, but Ethan stuck his arms out to stop him. Then, stoically, he straightened his body and shuffled forward, still not quite familiar with his own body weight. Cal and Charlie exchanged looks as they gathered the belongings on the bed, but Cal shook his head in defeat.

The journey down to the ED was long and painful, with Ethan grimacing by the time he'd reached the elevator. With a large duffle bag over his arm and Ethan's wheelchair clutched against his body, Cal was laden down and was finding it difficult to support his brother too. He kept an arm strongly aloft, ready for whenever Ethan needed him.

A quiet hum greeted the men as they arrived in the ED. Ethan's head rose as they exited the lift, and suddenly he was confronted by the faces of, he felt, everyone he knew. Max, Zoe, Dixie, Iain, Dylan – even Connie smiled back at him. They had clearly been briefed by Charlie on Ethan's arrival. Cal cracked a smile as they moved through the ED, saying thanks, letting Max take the wheelchair from him, but Ethan was finding his chest increasingly tight. He didn't want people looking at him; this was exactly what he didn't want.

'Ethan.' A cool hand lay across his shoulder from behind him, and it was only then that he realised he'd frozen in the middle of the floor. 'Do you need some water?'

He turned, and smiled shakily at his comforter. 'Lily. Thank you, b—but no. I'm fine.'

Lily was not convinced; her hand remained on her friend's shoulder. 'I'm glad you're feeling better,' she said, playing along. 'You'll be returning to work soon, I imagine.'

Cal, a few feet beyond them, cursed himself inwardly for getting caught up in the attention. He had left Ethan behind; what kind of brother did that?

'Let's hope so,' Ethan agreed, feeling the weight lift from his chest. 'See you soon, Lily.'

'See you.' Lily's hand fell as Ethan turned.

As soon as they were in the fresh air, Ethan fell onto Cal's outstretched arm. He had overestimated his strength, and while he wished Charlie and Max didn't have to see him like this, it was better than the whole team of his co-workers.

Cal helped him into the car wordlessly, not for lack of wanting to speak but simply in the knowledge that Ethan would snap at him if he tried. He loaded the car up and spoke briefly to Max and Charlie, allowing Ethan a few moments in his own company.

Ethan's head fell back against the car seat heavily, as if he no longer had the muscle to keep it upright. He thought about rolling down the window to address his friends like his brother, but he could barely lift his arm. As he hauled his body into a more comfortable position his shoe hit something in the foot well and caused a loud _clink_ sound. Peering first to see where his brother was, he leant down to find three empty beer bottles rolling around under his seat. His eyes narrowed, Ethan silently fell back into his car seat, pushing the bottles further underneath him. He knew he'd had a reason to be worried about Cal.

'Right,' Cal announced as he climbed into the car beside him. 'Let's go home, little brother.'

* * *

 **STORY ARC TIME. Anyone remember way back when Cal had a meltdown? Well, it's finally coming back to haunt him.**

 **I suppose this chapter was also written to show just how traumatised Ethan is by the whole ordeal and how much he hasn't been allowed to process it yet. I'm not sure exactly how it's going to culminate yet (big drama, little drama)… so** _ **please**_ **, if you have any ideas let me know! I'm always so open to possible plotlines.**

 **Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon! I'm really enjoying getting back into this so I can only be thankful that inspiration has hit. Please review if you have time!**


	17. Burdened

**_Guest:_** **Thank you so much! Your comments on characterisation mean a lot, honestly. And ask and you shall receive! Enjoy this chapter with added Lofty.**

 ** _heggyy:_** **No worries – thank** ** _you_** **for your review! I'm glad you're enjoying it.**

 ** _InfinityAndOne:_** **Definitely agree – we saw a bit of that in the show after Ethan's car crash so I kind of built on his reluctance to let Cal help him then as inspiration for this story. I'm glad you're enjoying the updates – we both seem to be ON IT at the moment! Thank you for your comments and hope you like this chapter as well!**

 ** _20BlueRoses:_** **I always so enjoy reading and writing simple Cal/Ethan scenes. They worked so well together on screen and if we can recreate that on here I could read them over and over again. I dithered a lot over Ethan's reaction to Cal's trashing of the flat, so I hope I've done it justice. Thank you for your review – hope you enjoy this update!**

 **Brace yourselves, kiddos. This is a _long_ chapter, and there's a little final push of drama for all you Ethan-torturers.**

* * *

The ride back to the brothers' flat was just Cal chatting nonsense at Ethan. He needed something to fill the silence between them, so he went on and on about the weather, sports, the local pub's refurbishment, the fact that there was no milk or bread but that didn't matter because they could buy some later—anything to cover the empty sound of his car engine.

He thought about turning on the radio—but then what if Ethan said something and he couldn't hear him? At least this way, he had a chance to speak.

But he didn't. Ethan sat, legs tucked tightly underneath the seat, staring out his window for the whole trip. Even when Cal notified him that he would be back in a second while he picked up some essentials from the corner store, he barely nodded. But when they pulled up outside their flat, Cal was shocked by how quickly Ethan exited the vehicle and closed the door.

His mouth quirked up lopsidedly. 'Happy to be back, Nibbles?'

His brother mirrored his expression, but it was nowhere near as convincing. 'Something like that,' he muttered, turning to take in the sight of his flat.

There was a time when he would have been so happy to see his flat. At a time, it meant freedom. Then, when Cal slyly moved himself in, believing that Ethan was not wise to his plans, the flat came to symbolise that type of nostalgia that only comes from moving in with your adult sibling. It meant responsibility, not just for himself now but for his charming liability of a brother. It wasn't just his flat; it was their home.

But it didn't feel like that anymore. Ethan could only see an empty shell. A husk of a home, where laughter had lived and died. The paint looked greyer, the door looked a little less bright, the knocker rusty. It had come to be a sort of penitentiary, somewhere to lock him now that he was a burden to its other resident.

'Home sweet home,' Cal said from behind him, curling an arm around Ethan's rigid shoulders. 'Come on—you must be freezing. I'll make us some tea.'

Ethan allowed him to guide his body into the flat, but somehow felt colder when he crossed the threshold. The first thing he noticed, after the odd smell, of course, was the phone tugged out of the wall. He threw a sideways glance at his brother, who was busying himself with the bags and hadn't noticed Ethan's concern yet.

'Oh, alright, just go to your room then—' Cal called after Ethan as he walked away. 'I'll call you for tea in a minute,' he said, mostly to himself, a questioning tone hanging in the air as Ethan disappeared from sight.

He raised his eyebrows briefly and gave a little shrug, booting the kitchen door open with his foot due to his being laden down with belongings. He froze, feeling his foot go just a touch too far through the wooden slats. Peering down at the cracked door, he felt panic flood his senses. He dropped as much as he could from his arms on the floor, skidded the milk and bread onto the countertop and tripped over himself out of the kitchen.

'Ethan! Ethan, wait!' he yelled as he sprinted towards his brother's bedroom.

It was too late.

For a few moments, the two brothers just stared blankly at the carnage in front of them: Ethan, assessing the damage, and Cal, assessing how quickly he could make it go away. Motionless, Ethan's eyes trailed from the tipped up furniture, to the vodka stain, to the broken glass, to the… He squinted. _Blood?_

As he leant forward to inspect it, arms enveloped him and pulled him back. 'Careful!' his big brother cried out. ' _Careful_ , Ethan—the glass!'

Wordlessly, Ethan turned towards Cal, who held onto him like he'd break if he let him go. The two were locked in a distrustful stare, Cal already silently begging for forgiveness.

'Y—You?' Ethan asked, swallowing the painful lump in his throat. 'You did this?'

He wasn't angry, not even close; if Cal hadn't known better he would have sworn he'd seen guilt flash across Ethan's eyes. But that did not stop Cal from needing Ethan's understanding. He didn't even know where to begin, or how to explain what had overcome him that night. How had he managed to forget what he had done?

With no answer from Cal, Ethan pulled away from him. Cal's hands chased him, making sure he didn't go too close to the debris.

'Ethan, I'm—' He didn't know how to say it. 'Ethan, please—' His little brother was staring at him, needing an explanation. 'Just… I'll clean it, okay? You'll barely know it happened, alright? Sleep in my bed tonight. Please, I—'

Ethan was already leaving. He left Cal, mouth agape, hand stretched out, midsentence. The older of the two stood alone, among what remained of Ethan's bedroom.

* * *

'That'll be the food,' Cal spoke to the walls as the doorbell rang out.

Ethan did not seem to register that his brother had spoken. He'd been staring at the TV screen for over an hour, blankly, and would only respond if Cal asked him a direct question. Respond itself seemed too generous a word: Ethan would make sounds and maybe nod if Cal asked him a direct question.

Cal sighed at the silence that answered him and rose from the sofa to collect the food from the door. He'd definitely bought too much, he mused, as he greeted the delivery man and his three bags of Chinese. Pleasantries were exchanged and a small joke about being starving was made, but all Cal wanted was to return to Ethan with a reason for him to talk.

'I got your favourite,' he said as he unboxed the food on the kitchen counter. 'Fortune cookie? God, they gave us loads. Must have thought we were having a party.'

Nothing.

Cal's shoulders sagged. This had happened before: Ethan giving Cal the cold shoulder for some idiotic move the latter had made. But this time was different: Ethan wasn't even _trying_. Usually, Cal would only have to prod and push a little harder and Ethan would crack. What followed was either a full-out brawl, or a drink in the pub and a curry on the way home. What Cal would give for either of those scenarios to be realised right now.

He positioned the food on plates, paying particular care to ensure that Ethan's satay sauce didn't touch the rice because he hated that. He didn't ask him if he wanted a beer; he just gave him one. It suddenly occurred to him that he'd never asked if his brother should be drinking, but he still placed it in front of him anyway.

Side by side on the sofa, they picked at the food awkwardly. Cal didn't try to speak again, but he watched his brother meticulously, noting a small smile flicker on his face when Ethan realised his plate was organised the way he would like it.

It was only when Ethan placed his plate on the coffee table, half untouched, that Cal felt compelled to talk again.

He licked his lips and ran his hand over his mouth. 'You not hungry? You've not eaten all day.'

Ethan looked at him inquisitively, as if he'd built himself up for this moment. He glanced at Cal's lap, where his dinner sat, to the beer bottles on the coffee table, then back to Cal's face.

'W—what was prison like?'

Whatever was still in Cal's throat threatened to bring itself back up. Stunned, he slowly moved his plate to the table. Turning his body fully toward his brother, he watched Ethan's eyes trail after his hand as it pulled the beer to his lap.

'Er…' Cal dithered, taking a gulp from the bottle. 'No—you don't…' He shook his head and scrunched up his face. 'You don't want to know about that.'

'Bad?' Ethan's face was innocent and trusting, wanting to know everything.

Cal coughed, almost laughing, and flicked his eyebrows up. 'Not good.'

Ethan stared a little while longer at his brother, who tried his hardest to avoid eye contact. 'Tell me.'

Cal, picking at the label on the beer with his thumb, raised his head and met his brother's eyes. He wanted Ethan to be honest with him—but how could he expect that if he didn't return the gesture?

'It was… cold. It was really cold. I spent most of my time doing push ups and…' He shrugged aimlessly. 'Actually, I… can't remember doing anything else. I didn't really talk to anyone. Nobody talked to me much. There was a kind of _hierarchy_ but…' Cal shook his head as if he were remembering each detail of each prisoner's crime. '…what I did couldn't hold a torch to some of the others.' He threw the beer bottle back again, glugging three mouthfuls.

'They hurt you?'

'What, no—God, no. I was at the bottom of the pile, Eth. No one cared about me. All I'd done was beat a guy up.' He watched Ethan's eyes sink, as if he felt responsible. 'I don't regret it though. He deserved it.' He went to tip the bottle up again.

Ethan couldn't help it; he couldn't hold back anymore. He reached forward with both hands and grabbed the bottle, wincing when collateral splashes hit Cal's face. He placed it on the carpet close to him, away from his brother, out of sight.

Cal looked shocked—bewildered, even. He wiped the splashes from his cheek and threw his hands out in confusion at his frightened little brother. 'What was that for?!'

Ethan flinched. He fiddled with his hands, his head down, wishing he hadn't just done that, wishing he didn't have to explain himself.

'Ethan?' Cal pressed, still confounded. 'What the hell did you do that for—?'

'Not the answer,' Ethan finally forced out. 'Alcohol. It's not the answer.'

Cal was silent for a few moments, his mouth hanging open, his eyes narrowed. His lips began forming the beginning of words, but he couldn't seem to get any out. He curled his body further round to face his brother more, tipping his head at different angles to try to see Ethan's face. 'Eth, I'm not… I'm not a drunk. Is that what you think of me?'

Ethan shook his head, but Cal wasn't convinced. 'I…' Ethan began, feeling his eyes well up against his will. 'I found the others.'

Cal shook his head with small movements, his eyes glancing wildly as he tried to figure out his brother's actions. 'What? What others? What are you talking about?'

'In the car, Cal.' Ethan's head lifted, and Cal could see the glistening sheen in his eyes. 'The beer in our car.'

Cal suddenly felt awful, the pieces of the bizarre situation slotting together. He rubbed at the stubble on his chin, taking in deep breaths. It was only when Ethan removed his glasses and went to dry his eyes that he suddenly spoke.

'It was one time, Eth. I promise. When you…' Cal rolled his eyes at himself, hating himself for a second. 'When you had your surgery. I couldn't handle it. It was too much. I had nothing left; I thought you were never going to be the same again.' He watched his brother raise his eyebrows as if to say _I won't_. 'But it won't happen again. I'm not an alcoholic.' He shuffled forward on the couch and reached his arms out to hug his brother. He almost expected Ethan to reject him, but filled with relief when he sank into the embrace. 'I'm… I never meant for this to happen.'

He felt mumbling into his shoulder and pulled back to look at his little brother's face. 'What was that?'

Ethan's lips were curved downwards, his eyes still betraying him. 'I just wish I could go back. To where it all began. Make it better.'

Cal had no words, so he hauled him back close to him. Resting his chin atop Ethan's hair, he kissed the crown of his brother's head. He wanted to make it better, too. But he didn't know how. He didn't know how they'd ever get out of this hell.

* * *

Ethan, exhausted from the day's events, and with that heavy feeling in his forehead that only comes from crying, went to bed soon after he had confronted Cal about the beer. Cal had given him clothes, told him to just yell if he needed him, and set a cup of tea next to him. He hoped he was too tired to have any nightmares, that the demons couldn't filter through such a deep sleep.

He now stood in the wreckage of Ethan's room again, not sure where to begin. Crouching, he picked at the glass on the ground, rubbed a finger against the dark stain and immediately regretted it when his skin stung, presumably from tiny shards. Ethan would know what to do, where to start.

He finally pulled his phone from his jeans pocket, clearing his throat to allow for humour to filter in. 'Hey, it's me. I need a favour. There's free Chinese food in it for you.'

* * *

'You didn't say the food was going to be cold.'

'You didn't ask.'

'Oh, lighten up, Lofty,' Max chimed in, shovelling a forkful of noodles and rice down his neck. 'It's free!'

Lofty picked up something a little ominous from the plate and immediately tossed it back down, scrunching his nose. He pushed the plate away from him. 'I think I'm good.' He made a face as his friend leaned over and retrieved the plate from him. 'Seriously, Max?'

'It's _free_ ,' Max repeated incredulously, as if that were enough reason. He waved a prawn on the end of his fork under Lofty's nose.

Lofty mimicked gagging, before turning to Cal, who was perched on the edge of the sofa. 'So, this favour…'

Cal bared his teeth in a guilty grimace. 'Yeah. So… remember when I may or may not have gotten heinously drunk a couple weeks back?'

'Ha!'

Lofty rolled his eyes. 'How could we forget?'

'Yeah, sorry about that.' Cal scratched his neck awkwardly. 'Well, it seems I may have got a little carried away…' His voice dropped. '…trashing Ethan's bedroom.'

Lofty's face dropped. 'What?'

'O—oh,' Max chuckled out, lowering the fork from his mouth. 'Shit, man.'

Cal's lips pursed, and he rubbed his hand over his mouth. 'I don't… I don't know what came over me, dude. But… Ethan saw it today and… I don't know, I can't read him. But I need to clear it up.'

'Oh, I see,' Max teased, rolling his eyes dramatically. 'So you called the porter and the nurse for free labour?'

Cal cocked his head, his eyebrows high. 'It wasn't like that. Besides—' He nodded toward Max's plate of food. 'Doesn't look very free to me.'

'It _was_ cold,' Lofty piped up, shrugging.

Cal let out an exasperated sigh, letting his head fall into his hands.

'Okay, okay—we'll help you out.'

'Eh?' Max's voice peaked a few octaves higher than normal. 'Oh, _fine._ But I'm expecting beer next time Cal goes on a bender.'

'Ugh,' Cal groaned. 'Don't mention beer.'

'Is it a sore subject for you?' Max taunted, jumping off the sofa. 'Alright, nurse-boy, let's clear up Dr Knight's mess _again_.'

'Don't call me nurse-boy!' Lofty protested as he followed Max from the room.

Cal let an exhausted chuckle escape him. He, too, hopped off the couch and made his way to Ethan's bedroom. He made a pit stop at his own room, peering into to check on Ethan.

His brother was curled up next to the wall, and if Cal could see his face, he almost expected him to be sucking his thumb like he used to when he was a child. He considered checking, but Ethan seemed so still that he didn't want to disturb him. He smiled to himself as he pulled the door back to its ajar position.

What Cal didn't see, and would later wish he had, was that Ethan's eyes were open, staring. Scared stiff of the darkness, he had trained his eyes onto an old crack in Cal's wall, anything to distract him. And when Cal left the room, he had turned over, now absolute in his decision. He was a burden to his brother, and that was something he'd never wanted for him. He knew what he had to do.

When Cal next checked on Ethan, Ethan would be gone.

* * *

 **I think we're probably coming to the end of this story. Maybe 3 or 4 chapters left? It's only taken me two and a bit years lol. Sorry about that. Hope you liked this update! Please review if you can :) Next chapter should be up in the next few days. Lots of love x**


	18. Back on His Feet

**_InfinityAndOne:_** **Hahaha! I actually laughed out loud at your reaction. Glad you enjoyed it! Thank you so much for commenting on the realism: it's one of my goals whenever I write anything so it's good to know I've hit it! They might be forced to have that open and honest conversation whether they like it or not… Hope you enjoy this update!**

 ** _heggyy:_** **I don't want to ruin it by making it too long! I'm so glad you're enjoying it though. You'll find out soon enough ;)**

 ** _Panic-at-casualty:_** **Aw, thank you so much for your lovely review! It made me smile so much. I'm glad I surprised you with the ending; I worried it was too predictable! I'm so happy you're so excited by my writing – I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 ** _Bonnie Sveen Fan:_** **Thank you for your review! Hope you enjoy this update :)**

 ** _20BlueRoses:_** **I'm so glad the twist was a surprise! Yay! And I'm so happy that you liked Ethan's reaction; I was quite worried about it since we all know Ethan can also lash out as well. Thank you for your comments on Max's voice: his comic lightness is needed for such a dark story so I'm glad I represented him well. Enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

The three men groaned unharmoniously as they lowered the bed frame down to the ground. Straightening up, hands on hips, slightly out of breath, they admired their handy work. Ethan's room was almost back to rights, bar his bedsheets (in the wash, finally, after all three had a go at working the machine), his mirrors (obliterated, no coming back from that), and some fragments of which Cal couldn't make head or tail (he was sure Ethan would call them _knick-knacks_ ).

'Right,' Cal proclaimed, slapping his hands together. 'That's that done.' He picked up two as yet undetermined bits from Ethan's dresser and tried to haphazardly fit them together. 'I'll just fix… whatever this is…' One piece began to come apart in his hand and he quickly placed them back where he found them. 'In the morning.'

'I need a cigarette.'

'Max, you just went.'

'Look, nurse-boy, come at me one more time about smoking and see where—'

'Max,' Cal warned lethargically, though he had all faith that Max would never hurt Lofty.

'Well, we've been here for hours and I've only been _twice._ ' Max began to shuffle around in his back pocket. 'What time is it, anyway?'

'Half midnight?' Lofty answered, peering at his phone.

'God, it feels later than that.' Cal pushed a hand through his hair and rolled his neck. 'You lads want to stay for a beer?'

'I thought you didn't like beer now,' Lofty said, though one look at his friends discounted his genuine question.

'I didn't say that.'

'Lofty, you never say no to free beer.'

'Cal _said_ —'

'Right, you guys,' Cal interrupted before anything escalated. 'Go help yourself to whatever's left in the kitchen. I'll just be a minute.'

'Are you checking on Ethan again?' Max asked as they left the room. 'He's a grown man, Cal.'

'He's _sick_ ,' Cal protested, pausing outside where Ethan was sleeping.

'So you don't really want to wake him up,' Lofty chimed in, and Max nodded.

'Hey, at least we finally agree on something, nurse—'

'I told you not to call me that,' Lofty reiterated as Max bumped his arm with his shoulder and the two headed for the kitchen.

Cal's hand hovered above his own bedroom door for a second, his head flicking between the room and the direction in which his friends had gone. Then curling that hand into a fist, he nodded to himself and turned away. Max was right: Ethan was a grown man. But that didn't comfort the churning in Cal's stomach as he retreated from the bedroom.

He dismissed Max's outstretched offer of a beer with a wave, receiving a look of shock. 'I'm just not in the mood. Have it, though. You've opened it already.'

'How was Ethan?' Lofty asked, rolling his eyes as Max juggled both of his newly acquired bottles.

'I don't know. I didn't check.' Cal chewed at the inside of his lip. 'I'm sure he's fine. He was sleeping fine earlier.'

'See? You worry too much, mate. I know he's been… in a bad way recently, but he's still thirty-odd.' Max placed his two beers on the coffee table and prodded at his leftover Chinese.

'And he's still my brother,' Cal objected. 'For the love of God, please don't eat that.'

'God, you two are a couple of old grannies today. I'm going for a smoke.' Max began to shuffle around in his back pocket again.

'Just because you wouldn't treat Robyn like this doesn't mean it's wrong, Max. Cal just wants to know that Ethan's alright. I'd feel the same with my sister.' Lofty shrugged and smiled lopsidedly at Cal, who returned the gesture.

'Alright, look,' Max began, a cigarette hanging over his lip. 'I'm just saying that he's home now, he's feeling better, and maybe he can start getting back on his feet again. But—' He held the cigarette between two fingers, just close to his mouth. 'Maybe I'm wrong. You know him better than me.'

'I don't know—you might be right.' Cal's voice was low, and he rubbed a hand down his face. 'He just doesn't seem well. He has these nightmares—I don't—I don't know.'

'He's been through a trauma,' Lofty comforted, standing. 'Cal, you look shattered. We better get off. Max, I'll come out with you.'

'You don't have to go,' Cal said, suddenly looking a little uncomfortable. The truth was, he wasn't sure if he wanted to be alone right now.

'He's right, mate. We can come back round tomorrow.'

The three stood uneasily for a second before Cal nodded shakily, trying to keep up his front. 'Okay, I'll… see you out, then.'

Looking back at the bedroom as he led them out, Cal resolved to check on his brother after they'd gone. Maybe even sleep in the room if he'd let him. He'd gotten so used to sleeping on the couch next to Ethan's bed that the prison cell had been even colder and lonelier than he prepared for. When he'd finally got back to that couch, it was like a godsend compared to the patchy, uneven prison bed.

'Max, you left the door open.'

Cal snapped back to the reality at the sound of his friends bickering once again.

'No, I didn't, Lofty. You think I smoke as much as I do and I can't close a door?'

'What—what's going on?' Cal asked, his brow furrowing with tiredness and frustration.

'Max left your door on the latch last time he went for a cigarette. It's so dangerous!'

' _Like I said_ —' Max waved around his pack of cigarettes in Lofty's face. 'I know how to close a door. I don't even know _how_ to leave Cal's door on the latch.'

There was that churning feeling again. An ominous feeling creeping over him.

'Well, neither Cal nor I left the house, so it had to have been you!'

Cal's jaw locked, his eyes flicked to the left, and suddenly his head twisted to look down the corridor.

'You don't think…?' Lofty asked tentatively as Cal's head jerked back to face him.

'No, we would have heard him,' Max said, although even he began to shake his head slightly, doubting himself. 'We would have heard him—Cal!'

Cal tried to keep himself calm, keep his footsteps light, as he advanced towards the room in which he knew his brother was sleeping. He opened the door slowly, because he didn't want to wake him up. But as the bed came into view, Cal's hand fumbled blindly with the light switch. His stomach lurched; he choked out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding in. The bed was empty.

'Ethan?' he found himself yelling to the empty rooms, chucking open every door he passed. 'Ethan!'

Lofty peered into Cal's bedroom. 'Where is he?'

'Do you _think_ I'd be yelling his name if I knew that?!' Cal burst out. He didn't have time to feel guilt for the shocked look on Lofty's face. He froze on the spot, having checked every room. 'He's not here. He's gone.'

'He's not gone,' Max said, unconvinced. 'How could have he left without us knowing? We were only across the corridor.'

Cal's face seemed paralysed in a perpetual state of terror. 'How could I let him leave? I _knew_ I should have checked on him—I knew it.'

'Cal—' Max tried to stop him but he ran for the front door, almost tearing it off its hinges.

 _'Ethan!'_

Cal's shouts into the cold night air fell unanswered.

Lofty was suddenly behind him, trying to usher him back into the flat. 'We'll find him, Cal—he can't have gone far.'

' _Gone far—_ Lofty, he could have been gone for hours!' Cal scraped his fingers aggressively through his hair. ' _Hours_. Oh god, I _knew_ I needed to check on him. He hasn't even got a phone on him!'

'Maybe he went to the hospital?'

'The _hospital_ —why would he do that?'

'I don't know!' Max debated, his own guilt playing on his mind now. 'He's lived there for months! Maybe he wanted to go back or something—I don't know.'

'It's a start,' Lofty agreed, shrugging. 'I'll stay here. I'll stay behind while you two go look for him. Cal, we _will_ find him.'

Cal's eyes flashed between his two friends, his breathing laboured. _How could he have let him leave? Why didn't he check on him? What if he never found him?_

Suddenly, his coat and phone were being rustled into his hands and he was being pushed out the door. 'You're driving,' Max said as he steered him towards his car.

Cal had driven the route to the hospital probably more times than he'd had hot dinners in the last few years, but this time felt like the longest of his life. He spent the entire time lurching his head from side to side checking every street for his brother. When he pulled up outside the hospital, he felt Max take the keys from his hand and lock the car and only then he realised he hadn't done it himself.

An ambulance swung into the bay as they approached the ED. They danced around each other awkwardly, Cal striding into the hospital with Max as his shadow. But before their presence could even be acknowledged by their colleagues, Cal stopped dead.

 _'Male, early 30s, we haven't got an ID on him yet… found on the street outside the multi-storey car park in town… we think he may have jumped… query fractured skull…'_

'No, no, no, no…' Cal muttered under his breath. _'Ethan.'_

But before he could lunge for the trolley, Max had tackled him and pushed him against the wall. 'It's not him, Cal. It's not him! It's not him,' he repeated over and over, restraining his friend's shoulders.

'Max? Cal? What are you doing here?'

'Zoe,' Max greeted gratefully, still holding Cal down. 'Is Ethan here?'

'No… should he be? I thought he went home today.'

Cal groaned and tipped his head back. 'He's not here, Max.'

'We don't _know_ that yet. Zoe, can you ask around? Ask if anyone's seen him?'

'Sure, but…' Zoe stared at Cal, concerned. 'What's happened?'

'Ethan's _missing_ ,' Cal said, his voice sounding as if he was being throttled. 'He was supposed to be _sleeping_ , and now he's gone.'

'Oh God.' The concern in Zoe's voice did nothing to satiate Cal's fears. 'Of course—of course I'll ask around. Someone will have seen him.'

'Thanks, Zoe. You need to calm down, mate—you're no use to him like this.'

'Clearly I was no use to him when he was here!' Cal moaned, his voice cracking with emotion. He sniffed, holding a hand to his face as he stared after where the trolley had been wheeled. 'I really thought it was him, Max. I thought he'd—'

'I know. But you can't think like that yet.' Max said this to comfort his friend, though a part of him was reeling knowing that this was partly his fault. 'He might have just needed some air. He might be fine.'

'But he might not be,' Cal said, shaking his head. He exhaled unsteadily. 'I'll check his ward. He might be upstairs. Can you, um… can you stay here? Look out for him?'

''Course,' Max reassured, nodding. 'I'll call Lofty as well—see if he's turned up.'

Cal nodded and headed for the stairs, breaking into a sprint as he approached. He vaguely heard calls of his name as he ascended, but it wasn't enough to bring him back. It wasn't Ethan.

'Mr Self,' he stated as he approached the nurses' station. 'I need Mr Self.'

'He's just come out of emergency surgery, sir. If you'd like to take a seat—'

' _No._ I need to see him now.'

'I'm afraid that's not possible. If you take a seat, he'll be with you—'

'This is ridiculous. I'll find him myself.'

 _'Dr Knight,'_ Connie Beauchamp's voice split the tension like a knife through melting butter. 'I will not have this hospital's staff treated so appallingly.'

Cal wanted to respect her—he knew she was right—but he couldn't give in as easily as usual. His brother's _life_ could be at risk, and he was ready to clear his path to him of any hindrances with any necessary force.

'Dr Knight, I'm speaking to you.'

'I know,' he answered monotonously, his back to her.

'Look at me when I'm speaking to you.'

Cal caught a look of alarm on the nurse's face as he slowly turned to face his boss. He noticed a flicker of confusion across Connie's features as she clocked his panic, but, as ever, remained a true professional.

'Come with me,' she ordered calmly, thanking the nurse as she walked past Cal with the expectation that he would follow. 'Do you want to tell me what this is about?' she asked, her heels echoing around the late night wards.

Cal was quiet, the last few hours beginning to catch up with him. He trailed a few steps behind Connie, his face surrendering to his misery. He tried to swallow, tried to talk, but he felt like he would eject the meagre contents of his stomach if he even so much as breathed.

'Connie.' He heard the self-righteous tones of Mr Self's voice and stopped as Connie stopped. 'I heard you were looking for me.' God, he hated this guy. 'Dr Knight, to what do I owe this pleasure?'

'Is Ethan here?' Cal asked, almost childlike in his defeated tone and desperate eyes.

Mr Self frowned, and Connie glanced towards him. 'Why would he be here? You did take him home, didn't you?' Hate was too nice a word.

'Cal, where is Ethan?' Connie asked him, tentatively placing a hand on his arm.

'I don't _know_.' Cal pronounced each word with a locked jaw. He was tired of people _asking_ him where his brother was. 'He's gone missing.'

'What?' A fear that Cal couldn't remember ever seeing flooded Connie's face. 'When?'

'Tonight. I don't know when. I left him sleeping—I was in the flat the entire time—he left—I don't know.' He stared Connie in the face, knowing that he could trust her. 'I'm worried he's going to do something stupid.'

'Alright, alright,' Connie consoled, rubbing his arm. 'Guy, can I talk to you for a second?'

As she led him away, Cal pulled out his phone, wanting to scream when there were no new messages. He was sure now that Ethan didn't want to be located; he would have found a way to contact him otherwise. He called both Lofty and Max but they had nothing and he barely found the strength to stand as he pocketed the device. His phone was low on battery, but he kept it on loud for any information.

'I told you he wasn't ready, Guy!' Connie hissed at Mr Self. 'God, Guy. I told you. But you wouldn't—'

'Look, if you don't know anything—' Cal didn't feel bad for interrupting his seniors; they were wasting his time. 'Then I'll be out of your hair. I just… I thought he might have come here.'

'Wait, Cal.' Connie reached for him as he turned to leave. 'Come with me to the staff room. We can talk this over. Maybe get the police involved if you think it's needed.'

'Whatever,' Cal said, his despondent tone camouflaging his hammering heartbeat. 'Can we just go, please?'

With that, the two doctors left the ward and Mr Self, for once, speechless.

* * *

'Here you go,' Charlie murmured in a soft voice as he handed Cal a cup of coffee.

Cal curled his hands around the cup, welcoming the change in temperature. His hands had felt cold from the moment that he'd realised Ethan was missing.

'Can you remember him mentioning anything about going somewhere? Anything at all?'

'No,' Cal whispered, shaking his head at Connie. 'He didn't say anything like that. He seemed…' He shrugged as if he were unbalanced, one shoulder at a time. '…happy to be home. He seemed okay.'

'Nothing else happened that was abnormal?'

Cal rolled his eyes sadly. 'Everything feels abnormal these days.' He held the coffee close to his body, trying to warm himself from the core. 'Some stuff happened when we got home.'

'What stuff?' Charlie asked, perching on the sofa arm beside Cal.

Cal inhaled deeply, then let it escape. 'I… I did something stupid. He was… upset. Not angry. Just…' Cal's head dropped to his chest like he had an anchor round his neck. 'He, um… he thought I was an alcoholic.'

Connie's brow deepened, and she tried to fight it back but she had to ask: 'And are you?'

'No!' Cal's head shot up defensively. 'I just—I got drunk. Really drunk when Ethan was still in here. It was hard for me. And I know how pathetic that sounds, but… it happened.'

'It's understandable,' Charlie said, patting his shoulder. 'You were having a hard time.'

'He was having a worse time. And I—' Cal blinked furiously to stop himself crying in front of his colleagues. 'Look, I really should go. I need to look for him.'

'Max is looking for him. He'll call if he finds anything.'

'But he needs _me_. He'll think I don't care. He's out there somewhere, cold… probably scared shitless. Maybe already—'

'Don't say that,' Charlie interrupted gently. 'Don't wind yourself up. Just think, Cal: what else did Ethan say while you were home? What did you talk about?'

Cal sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. 'He didn't say much. I thought he was starting to handle it. We talked about… prison. What it was like. That's when he asked if I was an alcoholic, because I guess… he thought I was handling it badly… I don't know. But we talked it over, and he seemed alright.' Cal began to pick at the edge of the paper coffee cup. 'He went to bed pretty early, and when I checked on him he was sleeping. At least, I think he was.'

'Nothing else?'

Cal's head turned with memories of their conversation, how he'd held his brother as he cried. His eyes flicked around the room as he analysed the things his brother had said.

Suddenly, his body straightened. He placed the coffee down, stood up.

'Cal?'

 _'I just wish I could go back. To where it all began. Make it better.'_

The last thing his brother had said to him in that conversation. _How had he not realised before? How could he have been so ignorant?_

He looked up at Charlie, his eyes wide and swimming with panicked understanding.

'I know where he is.'

* * *

 **Okay, so this was a very dialogue heavy chapter, so I hope that wasn't boring and it stuck to character! The next chapter is probably going to be more psyche-focused, both Ethan and Cal. I feel like I've made this pretty obvious but have you figured out where Ethan went?**

 **Next chapter is hopefully going to be quite dramatic, brothers-focused, and I'm very excited to write it. SO, with that said, hopefully it shouldn't be too long of a wait. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review if you can. Lots of love x**


	19. Out in the Cold

**_InfinityAndOne:_** **Hope this wasn't too long of a wait—I wanted to make it perfect! I'm so glad you didn't find the last chapter boring… I was so worried it was too dialogue-heavy. Good guess! ;) Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

 ** _Panic-at-casualty:_** **Oh my! Thank you so much. I'm so so happy you enjoyed the last chapter. Don't be silly, I love long-winded reviews! Hope this update lives up to my descriptions lol.**

 ** _Bonnie Sveen Fan:_** **Aw, thank you for your comments—that means a lot. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 **Sorry this update took a little longer than the last couple chapters... it really meant a lot to me to get this one right.**

* * *

To his right, beneath a lone flickering street light, he spotted a vigil of dead flowers and burnt out candles. To his left, the last flailing scrap of a police line, floundering in the sharp winds. These were the only surviving souvenirs of the crash at the canal, reigning as the last bitter reminders of lives and deaths so easily forgotten.

The bollards had been replaced, the shells of both vehicles long removed. Any blood had been cleaned from the pavements, and had there been an investigation, he was not aware of it. It was as if that day had never happened.

But it had, and he was living proof. He was breathing proof, at the very least, if living was meant to be more than just survival. When he had dragged his exhausted body to this place, it was like he had been thrown back in time. He could see the lorry burning, taste the acidic smoke on his tongue. He could see his brother, ascending the upturned bus like the superhero that he was, going to work on the toughest case he could find. He could hear the choppy undercurrent of the canal beneath his feet. Staring down, he suddenly realised why. He could hear the water beneath him because his body was here, right now, above it.

He didn't know how he was keeping his body upright. Perhaps it was adrenaline, or the close-to-zero temperatures. With his medical knowledge tucked comfortably into the corner of his brain, he knew his attire of sweatpants and Cal's college sweatshirt would not be enough to protect himself from the elements. If he did not jump, he would be falling soon anyway.

Ethan was alone, he knew that much. There were no voices carrying down the wind, or car engines rumbling along the road behind him. He hadn't seen another person for at least a mile. But then, he also didn't know how far he'd walked.

When he'd climbed out of Cal's bed earlier that evening, he'd sat for a few minutes in silence. He made the bed to be respectful, then messed it up a little to keep up an illusion he hadn't even created yet. Then he pulled the sweatpants on that he'd worn that day, and realised quickly that the only top he had was the very one he was wearing. He briefly considered writing his brother a note of apology for ruining one of his comfiest sweatshirts, but that would give the game away. It was a game that Ethan didn't even know he'd begun to play.

He was careful not to turn on any lights, or make any noise. Everything he did felt louder somehow, like the universe was trying to tip Cal off that his brother was leaving him. Guided only by the slither of light coming from his own bedroom, he slid through Cal's ajar bedroom door and down the hallway. He slipped on a pair of ill-fitting shoes at the front door, freezing when he heard Cal laugh. He was sure he could hear his own heart pumping. Then, familiar with each floorboard and every step he had to take, he opened his front door. He kept a palm over the opening to dull the sound, and fully aware of the reverberation the door would make if he were to shut it again, he flicked it onto the latch and pulled it to. He was free. _Cal was free._

He couldn't remember what time he'd left the house, but he knew he'd been walking for at least an hour. His movements were hindered by his own impediments: his knee that didn't quite turn the way he wanted it to and his left hip that felt twice as heavy as its counterpart. Did every late-night passer-by pity him the way he thought they did, or was he imagining their forced smiles?

Now, he was here. Overlooking the canal, and undecided on his next move. The destination was clear: he was going to end up in the water again. Only this time he had control. He was conscious of his position. It was now a choice between _jump_ and _fall_.

* * *

Cal's knuckles felt like they were about to split open. His hands, unyielding around his steering wheel, felt constrained, the knuckles he had broken previously even more so. He drove with focus, stopping for no one and no laws. He drove within the speed limit, but give way signs and traffic lights meant little to him at this point.

Charlie and Connie had implored him not to go alone, but he was adamant. Ethan would not trust him if he came with backup. He would feel trapped, ambushed. He would hate Cal. Maybe he already hated Cal. Maybe that's why he was doing this. _Maybe_ , Cal thought, as he ran another red light, _I should just stop._ His brain quickly dispatched that idea, and his foot pressed harder on the pedal.

Besides, he had his phone. It held at least three per cent battery when he last checked, and that was enough to call for help. He had his car, which would carry Ethan to the hospital faster than an ambulance could. Cal had enough to save his brother; he always did.

He pulled his car up before he reached his destination. Something told him that driving too close to Ethan would only end in disaster. He didn't want to scare him.

Locking the car, he tightened the collar of his jacket around his neck as the winds assaulted him. He couldn't help but wonder how long Ethan had been out in the cold, battling this climate. His immune system was still vulnerable, and Cal had no idea what state he was in.

He hadn't been back to the canal since that day, but even in the dark he knew where he was. He could picture the lorry on fire fifty feet down the road, and the capsized bus he'd climbed atop to treat that woman—what was her name? Laura?

Cal shook his head of the memories of Laura's mutilated legs. He could almost see himself treating her. He stared at the phantom bus, trying to find his bearings. If he had been above the crash site, watching Ethan treat that girl and her father, then—

He twisted his body round. And that's when he saw him. His little brother, his best friend, balanced on the edge of the canal, in the exact place he'd fallen just a few months before. His hand was curled around the bollard chain, as if it were the only thing shackling him to sanity.

Cal's legs barrelled him closer, but about ten feet from the canal, he broke his pace. He halted, scared that the shifting of his feet on the gravel was enough to alert Ethan of his presence. But his brother did not seem to register him, as if he were too far away from reality to hear movement. Cal slipped his phone from his pocket, his thumb frantically tapping the button to open it. But the screen wouldn't light; it was dead. Cal's head rose to confront the scene in front of him. _He was on his own._

'Don't do it.'

He tried to push an air of authority into his command, but his desperation drained through and he found it sounded like a polite request. It was as if Ethan hadn't heard him. His body, shivering from the damp air, did not react to his brother's voice. Cal wondered if he was even there, if he'd been too late, if he was imagining his brother just before he'd jumped.

'Please, Ethan.'

Cal stepped forward, his hand still stretched out, so close, so desperate.

'Stay back.' Ethan's voice was fraught and frightened and unfamiliar.

'Ethan,' Cal repeated, feeling his feet dislodging the loose gravel.

'I—I mean it. Don't come any closer.'

Cal's chest shuddered as he breathed, in part due to the cold, and in part, fear. His hand was so close to Ethan, just a lunge away from grabbing him and pulling him to safety. But what if he missed? And Ethan fell? Or jumped? He needed to be closer. He only had one shot.

'Go home, Caleb.'

Cal shook his head vigorously, his lips pursed, even though Ethan couldn't see him. 'I won't.'

'Caleb.' Ethan's head finally curved slightly over his shoulder, but not enough to make eye contact. _'Go home.'_

'I'm not leaving you—no.' The winds were biting at Cal's face, at his eyes, and he felt his nose running. His shoulders were clenched, as if he were being frozen steadily. 'I'm only going home if you come with me.'

Ethan's head swung back round to face the churning waters. Cal watched his brother's feet shift weight and felt his body impulsively dive forward.

'Get away!' Ethan's voice was sharp and angry, but it wasn't enough to deter his older brother. 'I'll let go, Cal, I swear!'

Cal's body swayed with indecision. He was now just a few feet from Ethan; a fierce grab would probably be enough. But Ethan was threatening him now. Cal's eyes flicked between his brother and the precariousness of Ethan's proximity to the edge. He was sure he could retrieve him from the water again if needed, but his head buzzed with possible horrifying consequences of his brother falling back into that water.

'Okay,' he relented, leaning back reluctantly, his hands up in surrender. 'Okay, if that's what you want. Just…' Cal swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling hot tears drip down his face. 'Just come back over. We can talk about this.'

'I don't want to talk.'

'Okay,' he repeated, nodding with tiny erratic movements. 'Okay, well, then, I'll talk.' He still had an arm half-buoyed, ready to pounce if Ethan came through on his threat. 'I'll talk and you just… listen, yeah?'

His brother was silent. Did he have him? Cal didn't know.

He breathed in, quickly realising he had nothing to say. Or, at least, nothing that would help. He had _so much_ to say, so much to give, but none of that would help Ethan now.

'I, um…' Cal cleared his throat. _He was wasting time._ He saw Ethan's body baulk—voluntarily or not, he wasn't sure—and he panicked. 'I know you're having a bad time. I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry there's nothing I can do. You have no idea how much I want this—all of it—to go away. For you. So you wouldn't have to think about it anymore—but I will make it go away, Ethan. I—I don't know how yet, but I will. I'll make it better. But you _just_ … you've got to come back over. Come to me.' He stretched his hand out further, an invitation. 'I promise I'll make it better.'

'You _can't make it better_ ,' Ethan replied, a tinge of bitterness lining his words.

'I can! I will. You just have to let me try.' Cal sniffed, ferociously wiping his tears away. 'Ethan. What is this about? What can I do? Tell me, and I'll do it. I'll do _anything_.'

 _'Leave.'_

'Not that,' Cal answered immediately. 'Anything but that,' he followed up quietly.

Silence hung between the two men again. Cal stood his ground, his hand outstretched, hoping that Ethan could see him. His eyes bored into the back of Ethan's body, acutely aware of each and every movement his brother made. Ethan's body was trembling; even his silhouette in the blinking light of the streetlamp gave that away.

'What would you do?' Ethan suddenly asked, his voice hoarse. 'If I fell right now, what would you do?'

Cal reeled his head back in confusion. This was a trick question, right? 'I'd save you,' he said, barely skipping a heartbeat. 'I'll always save you, Ethan.'

'And that's the problem.' Ethan turned his body round unsteadily. Cal's eyes widened and he had to hold himself back from leaping for his brother. 'Don't you see, Caleb? Don't you see what this is d—doing to you?'

Cal shook his head with tiny movements, as if Ethan's words were reverberating around his skull. 'What? _Me?_ This is about _me_?'

'Y—your _whole life_ is dictated by whether I—I'm okay.'

Cal's laugh was reminiscent of an uncertain child, the calm before the storm. 'Come on, Nibbles. You're my…' He shrugged, trying to catch Ethan's eye line. 'You're my baby brother. I don't care if you're thirty, or fifty, or seventy-five. I'll always save you.'

Ethan swung his body back around toward the water in frustration and Cal took a step forward. His fingers could almost graze his brother's clothing now—almost.

'When you fell out of that tree in the back garden, I saved you.' Cal said quickly, his head tipped to the side as he felt his eyes fill up again. 'When that kid at school—what was his name, Jack—Johnny—Joel Nelson—Joel—that guy—when he locked you in the toilet and wouldn't let you out, _I saved you_. The car crash, _I saved you_. Here…' Cal looked around, gazing fearfully at the ghosts around him. 'I saved you. Don't _you_ see, Ethan? I'm your big brother. I can't not protect you.'

'Stop,' Ethan whispered, his voice cracking.

'No.' Cal's voice was strong, masking the penetrating fear he was feeling at that moment. 'I won't stop, Ethan. You have to understand. I _want_ to help you! I'm here because I want to help—I'm here because I _can't live without_ —'

 _'Stop!'_ Ethan hurled his voice at Cal, just wanting to silence him. Throwing his head over his shoulder, he briefly let go of the bollard chain and lost his footing.

 _'Ethan!'_

As he leapt, Cal's fingers scratched the cotton of Ethan's sweatshirt—his sweatshirt—and he almost grabbed a fistful but Ethan's hands protested, pushed him back. His body toppled, but he regained his balance and grappled with the chain. He was back on his feet, barely.

'Get b—back!' he shouted clumsily, tripping over his own words. Was he scared of dying? Or of living? He couldn't be sure anymore.

Cal retreated barely two paces, his body still poised for rescue. He was angry now—angry at himself, at the situation. At Mr Self. At Trevor Matthews. At Max for deterring him from finding Ethan sooner. At the world for doing this to his brother. But not at Ethan. Not Ethan.

'Just _go_ , Caleb.'

'No. Not without you.' The anger that was boiling inside of him began to spill over. 'You think I'm better off without you, huh? That's what you think? Because I can't think of a time when I've been better off without you. _Please,_ tell me if you can—go on, enlighten me. I'm _nothing_ without you. And you know it. So you can _stop_ this self-pitying, Cal-doesn't-need-me _crap_ , because I _do,_ Ethan!' Cal's voice was shaking with emotion. 'I always have. Even when I didn't want your help, you gave it to me. So here's me—returning the favour. I'm _here_. I will not leave you like this.'

Ethan was quiet, his chest heaving as he breathed in the thick, cold air heavily. He felt broken, like no decision he made was going to be the right one. Jump—and hurt Cal. Live—and burden him. It had seemed like such a simple solution at the time, the _right_ one.

 _Make yourself disappear, and everyone can carry on living their lives like this never happened._

'I can't get out.' His voice was barely above a whisper. His hand dug into the chain, his palm radiating a feeling not sharp enough to be pain.

'You _can_ ,' Cal encouraged, shuffling forward, hand outstretched once more. 'You will.'

'I don't know _how._ '

Ethan's body crumbled as he began to sob. His head first, his shoulders and his chest, folding in on itself. His body rocked forward, on the precipice between living and giving up.

Just as his hand abandoned the chain, Cal dived for him. Had he not been primed for this moment, he was in no doubt that Ethan would have fallen. He grabbed a fistful of clothing, Ethan's body lurching backwards. Cal's arms curled underneath his brother's armpits. Hands coiled around his Ethan's quaking shoulders, he held him close to his chest and dragged him away from the edge of the canal. Ethan's feet caught the chain as Cal pulled him over, his legs trailing heavily and stumbling as if he were still grappling for the edge. Cal's feet not cooperating with the dead weight, he tripped and stumbled onto his knees in the gravel, falling into a heap on the floor. But he had Ethan, and that was all that mattered.

Ethan's mouth was split open with raw, honest cries. Cal kept his arms around Ethan's body, holding him forcefully to his chest to stop him from running back to the canal. He had never seen his brother so helpless and despairing. He felt his body rocking from side to side as he dipped his head and rested it atop Ethan's. He even heard his own mouth shushing him, trying to soothe him.

 _'Please,'_ he heard Ethan speak softly as his sobs subsided. 'Please, Cal, just _let me go_.'

He only held him tighter. One hand reached to push Ethan's dishevelled hair from his face, a direct echo of when Cal had first pulled him from the canal.

'No, Ethan,' he whispered back, pushing the power back into his voice. 'Never.'

Ethan did not answer.

And so they sat, in an exhausted heap in the dirt, overlooking the place in which this whole ordeal had begun.

* * *

 **I hope this was worth the wait! I very much enjoyed writing this chapter as I've been thinking about it since way back when I first began writing this. I'm a tiny bit stuck now as to whether to touch on immediate aftermath or maybe do a time jump or something... so if you have a preference please let me know.**

 **I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and it wasn't too out of character. Please review if you can :)**


	20. Trust

**Hi hi hi! So sorry it's been so long—I've actually been working on this since I uploaded the last chapter but I've been so busy I've only been writing a couple lines every other day. Thank you so much for the reaction to Chapter 19—I'm so glad you guys liked it!**

 ** _Bonnie Sveen Fan:_** **I actually did consider for a moment Cal running away but I figured he'd gone on too much of a journey to do that haha, so I'm glad he stepped up too. Thank you for your review!**

 ** _casualtyfics111:_** **Wow, thank you so much. I'm glad you liked it! Thank you for your review.**

 ** _InfinityAndOne:_** **Aw, thank you so much! I thought about it a lot but I decided on immediate aftermath too. Thank you so much for your comments; I'm so happy you enjoyed (right word? Probably not lol) that update. Hope you like this chapter!**

 ** _20BlueRoses:_** **Oh man, thank you for saying that. That means a lot, even though I'm sorry you felt emotionally drained! I'm glad you enjoyed the little details as well. I chose immediate aftermath in the end – hope you enjoy!**

 ** _Becs33:_** **Definitely the tensest chapter I've written for a while, I think! Thank you for your review. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 ** _Panic-at-casualty:_** **Thank you so much for your lovely, lovely review. I know I PM'd you about it but I just wanted to reiterate how happy it made me. Thank you. I hope you enjoy this update! No time jump as requested ;)**

 **Also! T/W: I do touch on self-harm in this chapter. It's momentary and it's not something that I plan on exploring too much further in this story, but it added an extra branch to Ethan's mental wellbeing. Just wanted to warn everyone.**

* * *

It was only when the one flickering streetlamp went dark that Cal realised how long he and his brother had been sitting there. It had to be… three, maybe four in the morning? All Cal knew is that from the moment he'd pulled his brother from the side of the canal, time had just sort of… stopped.

'Ethan,' he whispered, a rush of feeling coming back to his legs as he shifted. 'Come on—we have to get you to the ED. I'll help you up.'

Ethan made no attempt to move, slumped against his brother as if he were asleep. 'No hospital,' he murmured back, his lips barely parting. He protested weakly against Cal's attempts to manoeuvre him.

'Eth, come on, don't do this. I just want to check you over. Your hands are freezing.'

'Not cold,' Ethan replied stubbornly, his voice still barely above breath.

'Don't be stupid.' Cal's voice was still taut from yelling, from crying. 'Come on.' He hauled himself and Ethan into a more upright position, bringing his brother with him as he stood. 'Can you walk to the car? It's just up there.'

'W—what would you do if I said n—no?' Ethan's attitude was that of an angsty teenager, a phase he had skimmed over in his young life, and Cal was not proud to say that it was grating on him. He'd rather Ethan yelled at him than gave him attitude.

'I'd carry you kicking and screaming if I had to,' Cal replied casually, allowing Ethan to put some of his weight on him as they walked.

'Funny, Cal.'

'I'm serious.'

The two brothers exchanged a look, simultaneously acknowledging the situation they were in. They were both acutely aware of how close Ethan had come to losing his life, and how close Cal had come to losing Ethan. Neither wanted to address it aloud, so they settled for an understanding look and Cal's arm bowed around Ethan's torso as he helped him to the car.

'You don't have to lock the d—doors, you know,' Ethan deadpanned as Cal got into the car beside him, hitting the door lock less stealthily than he'd like. 'I—I'm not going to jump out.'

Cal's eyes stared straight forward, steely, as he started the engine. 'Your words, Eth, not mine,' he said, his voice scratchy and drained, and pulled the car away.

Ethan curled his body into himself, crossing his legs, folding his arms around his middle. Bringing Cal's sweatshirt up around his mouth, he breathed shakily into the fabric, appreciating each warm breath that tickled his face and neck. Cal had whacked the car temperature on high as he'd helped Ethan into the vehicle, but it was taking time to warm up and was currently blasting Ethan with cold air. He closed his eyes against the sharp airstream as it was making him tear up (or at least, that's what he told himself), and buried his face deeper into Cal's sweatshirt.

He felt a hand grab his arm and shake him, and though he could tell that fingers were digging into his skin he could barely feel them.

 _'Eth. Ethan._ '

If someone was talking to him, they had to be far away.

 _'Ethan.'_

His eyes fumbled open, confused. Cal's face was hovering in front of his, frowning intensely. His mouth was moving though it felt as if the words were leaving him several seconds afterward. Ethan blinked a few times, trying to gain a sense of his surroundings.

He was still in the car; he knew that much because the strap was tight against his chest. He had an odd taste in his mouth, and teeth felt funny, like they weren't attached to his gums anymore. Cal was knelt next to him, in the passenger doorway, his hand grasping Ethan's arm. As the black spots in Ethan's vision dissipated, flood lights assaulted him. They were at the hospital.

He felt the belt loosen, alleviating some of the pressure on his chest. And then Cal was pulling him from the car gently, hooking Ethan's arm over his shoulder and his own around Ethan's torso to support him to the ED. Ethan didn't even try to fight him; he felt like all the energy had left his body.

Cal was shocked that his own body hadn't failed him yet. No matter how high his levels of exhaustion and dehydration were, it seemed like his instincts outweighed them. He held his brother with all the strength he had left in his body, but he couldn't help but feel like he was dragging him through the doors of the hospital.

'Cal? Oh my god!'

He had never been so happy to hear Zoe Hanna's voice. He felt some of the weight lift from his shoulder as she ducked underneath Ethan's other side and supported half of him.

'Max, wheelchair, please!'

Max, despite not even being on duty, was already veering one towards them.

'It's fine—I have him,' Cal rejected, waving a hand at his friend. In his slightly irrational state, he couldn't help but feel a little resentment toward him.

'Cal—'

'I have him!' Cal spat out more angrily than he'd intended. But he did nothing to defend his actions, passing by Max as if he were invisible.

'Ethan—you found him.' Mrs Beauchamp was suddenly in front of him, having emerged from her office at the commotion. 'Cubicle 4 is free; let's take him there.'

With Zoe's help, Cal helped his worn-out brother sit on the bed. He checked him over briefly, tipped his chin to look in his once bright eyes, and turned to his superiors.

'I'd like to treat him.'

Both women wore the same expression: eyebrows raised, mouths parted in protest, heads tilted ready to shake their heads _no_.

'Please.'

'Dr Hanna,' Connie began, peering around Cal's protective stance at his younger, despondent counterpart. 'Can you stay with Dr Hardy for a moment while I chat with Dr Knight? Dr Knight—' She flicked her head to the side authoritatively. 'With me, please.'

'Mrs Beauchamp—' Cal began as she led him away from cubicles, but he'd known it was ill-advised to speak first.

'Cal, you are in no state to be treating a patient right now—let alone your own family member. I'm fully aware that Ethan is struggling, but _you_ are struggling too and I will _not_ allow two of my best doctors—'

'He needs me,' Cal interrupted instinctively. His tiredness was either heightening his confidence, or his stupidity. 'I know the rules, Mrs Beauchamp. But it's only precautionary. And he _needs me._ '

Connie was silent for a few moments, her eyes boring into his as she processed his words. She inhaled deeply, pursing her lips. 'I won't ask you what happened to Ethan tonight, as I'm sure you've been through enough. I will let you treat him, _as long as—_ ' She emphasised as Cal's face perked up. '— _as long as_ … you tell me _immediately_ if you suspect any problem _whatsoever_. I _will_ be double-checking your work later.'

Cal nodded anxiously. 'Absolutely, Mrs Beauchamp. I won't let—'

'No funny business, Dr Knight. I haven't forgotten the stunt you pulled in the ITU. If you need help, you call. Do I make myself absolutely clear?'

'Crystal.' Cal fought against his own face as the corners of his mouth turned up. 'Thank you, Mrs Beauchamp. You're a great boss.'

Connie rolled her eyes at him before turning to return to her office. 'For my sins,' she muttered as she strode away.

* * *

'Here,' Cal spoke gently as he reappeared in Cubicle 4, drawing the curtain behind him. 'It will help warm you up.'

He passed Ethan the tea and pulled the blue blanket tighter around his shoulders. His hand briefly cupped Ethan's face as if to ask how he was, but he quickly drew away when he found Ethan's skin to still be cold to the touch.

'That's odd,' he murmured to himself. 'I think I should probably do your obs again, Nibbles.'

His reaching for his brother's left wrist was the switch that seemed to bring Ethan back from his catatonic state. He snatched his hand away—almost involuntarily—and his right hand went to balance his tea on the side table.

'No, it's okay—Eth, don't worry about it—I'll just—'

Ethan stuck out his other hand stubbornly, his eyes seemingly unable to focus on anything for more than a second. Cal stared, bewildered, at Ethan's offered arm; then, glancing at his brother's left hand for no more than a moment, he moved to grab that wrist instead. Ethan jerked away in small, jarring movements, folding his arms over his chest like a child.

He knew it was only a matter of time. Cal was stronger and faster than him, and now he was suspicious. The two exchanged no words as their arms flailed and struggled until eventually Cal had Ethan's wrist locked in his own grip.

Cal's eyes brimmed with fear. He knew what was happening—what he was going to see. He'd seen it before. Not on his brother. Not on Ethan.

He shoved Ethan's sleeve up and forced himself to swallow the bile that rose in his throat.

Ethan's voice whimpered from his guilty posture. 'It was only once.'

Cal dropped his brother's arm like it was red-hot. It fell, a dead weight, to Ethan's lap, where he stared at it for a moment before collecting it like it didn't belong to him, rolling his sleeve down and wishing he was imagining this.

As Ethan went to apologise, Cal spoke. 'Once is enough. You should know that.'

His voice was almost robotic, as if he'd shut off his emotions. Cal reached for Ethan's other hand and began to take his pulse, appreciating that staring at the time meant he didn't need to look at his brother's face for at least a minute.

'I regretted it immediately,' Ethan said, needing to fill the silence. 'I just… I needed to control something. I—I don't even remember—'

'Ethan, shut up. I'm trying to take your pulse.'

That quietened him. He stared down at his lap, then at Cal's fingers pressing on his wrist. It felt like the longest minute in the world, but counting the seconds made Ethan realise that Cal stopped at 28. His brother dropped him again, turning away as if he couldn't bear to make eye contact. Ethan almost expected him to leave. Cal was ashamed; he had to be.

'Did it heal okay?'

'Yes.'

'It didn't get infected or anything?'

'No.'

'Good,' Cal nodded, biting at his thumbnail. 'That's good.'

A few moments passed before he finally summoned the courage to turn back round. He was greeted with the sight of his little brother on the bed, legs dangling like he was no more than ten years' old again. His head was drooped, fiddling with his fingers. _How had he not noticed? Had Ethan not shown him his arms since—_

'When?'

Ethan barely moved as he talked, speaking into his own body. 'A couple weeks ago.'

Cal's eyes flicked around as he processed the information. 'When I was in prison.'

'Mm-hmm,' Ethan murmured, nodding his head gently. 'It was only once,' he repeated.

Cal hesitated before positioning himself heavily next to Ethan on the bed. His feet skimmed the floor as his brain buzzed with how to navigate this situation. It was new, unfamiliar. Nowhere close to what they had been through recently, but almost harder to swallow. He'd done this to _himself_. His little brother had hurt himself _deliberately._ And then _hidden_ it from him.

'I know,' Cal finally managed to say, his voice croaky. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

'Y—you weren't here,' Ethan answered, but immediately looked up at him guiltily. 'I didn't mean it like that. I just meant… I couldn't t—talk to you about it. I didn't want to scare people.'

Cal's face winced. 'Scare people?'

Ethan shrugged, the movement lacking strength and honesty. 'I don't know.'

Cal turned his head sideways to look at the shell of what used to be his brother. How did his body look so small? So weak? How had he become so helpless? With a quick movement he wrapped an arm around Ethan's shoulders wordlessly. What else could he do? What was there to say?

Ethan was rigid in his embrace for a moment, unsure what to make of the gesture. When Cal's arm pulled him closer, asked him to reciprocate, he softened into it. He felt his body relax, his chest sagging and his eyes immediately drooping.

'Are you m—mad?' he managed to mumble as his brain shut down.

Cal sighed, but he shook his head against his brother's, supported by the elder's shoulder. 'No. I'm not mad.' His eyes glanced at Ethan's crown, smiling regrettably down at him. 'I just wish you'd told me.'

Ethan's exhaustion made his responses slow and quiet, but he managed to nod against Cal's shoulder. 'What do we do now?'

Cal swallowed the lump in his throat as he sensed Ethan falling asleep against him. 'I don't know, Eth,' he whispered, his thumb rubbing his brother's shoulder. 'I don't know. I'm sorry.'

* * *

 **Hope you guys enjoyed this update! I'm planning the next chapter to be lighter again, so hope you can stick with me until then. I'm not sure whether this will end with the next chapter or perhaps the one after... but I'll see where it goes. I'm less busy at the moment too so hopefully I can get it out quicker! Thank you for reading!**


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